


In the end light blooms

by Ralloonx



Series: The Bond before the war [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: A name change, Adult Content in droves, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Different appearances, Electromagnetic Fields, I have no regrets, I made things up as I went along, M/M, Mech Preg, Not Canon Compliant, Random OCs everywhere, Sigma abilities, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Transformer Sparklings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-21 03:59:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 68,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14907905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralloonx/pseuds/Ralloonx
Summary: An Alternate Universe story about Ratchet.Completely redone history that incorporates things I liked, and ignores anything I didn’t. It explores some ideas I’ve been having about how things could have been. Ratchet’s past, a sigma ability, meeting certain mechs, and even through to after the war.Don’t worry about the OC warning. The story doesn’t focus on them.Oh, and there are some pictures I did. More on the way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic, sorry!
> 
> This is.. a complete blend of everything. All the series. All. I took everything I loved and mashed it together. What I didn’t like was tossed out the window. New histories and events take place. This is a complete AU. I have no regrets.
> 
> Canon? What’s canon? Fuck canon. I can do what I want.
> 
> I don’t use a lot of the Transformers terms because they make paragraphs difficult to read. Like using servo for hand. Never mind the proper word for hand is manus, since Latin terms are used for everything else, it still makes things awkward for the reader. 
> 
> The fic is Ratchet centric for the most part. 
> 
> Appearance wise, it starts with the G1 Ratchet, who eventually becomes TFPRime Ratchet. Optimus is the TFPrime version. Megatron is the MTMTE version from IDW comics, but he has a flight form alt mode. Soundwave is from TFPrime. Starscream is the IDW model. Jazz, Prowl, and Mirage are designs that mix a lot of versions. Ironhide is from the comics.. it goes on and on.
> 
> There are also a great many original characters. They are there to flesh things out and nothing really focuses on them.

Ratchet had no idea why he was staying in this slag hole of a bar. Drink in hand, seated at a table with friends, the medic took a careful slurp before looking around the room. The drink was so poorly mixed he put it down after a grimace. Should have expected that. The bar was loud of course. Bars were. Ugly as well. Maybe it had been merely garish once, but now it was old, battered, and covered in outdated decorations. It showed its age. Mechs were everywhere, the place crowded, the contrasts in colors and sizes humorous. Some were even drunk already, gathered in clusters as they shouted at one another to be heard over the music.

Ratchet sat, not hearing his friends trying to draw him out of his funk, lost in his thoughts. This was their present to him for graduating with a degree in neurosurgery so of course he had to come along. To Kaon of all places. This little mudball mining area that somehow a tourist attraction. He never bothered to tell them it was his forth specialist degree. They didn't really need to know that. Now why was Kaon a tourist spot? The miners of course. 

It all started eons ago. Over time, as word spread, something of an entertainment strip had opened up on the surface. Gaudy bars, a dance club, and of course a slew of expensive hotels. Each more lavish than the last. All rented rooms by the hour. By the time Ratchet had first seen it, mere minutes ago to be honest, it was a broken down length of pavement with a crowded rush of tourists beneath aging neon signs. Trinket shops, loud music blaring from entertainment establishments, buskers vying for attention and coin.. hangers on looking to abuse.

Ratchet found the exploitation distasteful. There was a quite intense size kink going on among his kind. No surprise really. Many of the upper classes were midrange and got a huge thrill from the hulking mining frames. The only saving grace was that the miners had a choice in whether or not to mingle. Probably the only choices they had during their lives. Many did it for the extra energon, or for the presents their delighted guests lavished them with for a night of pleasure. 

Now if only his friends didn't know he had the exact same size kink as everyone else here. He didn't want this kind of one night stand, no matter the thrill those frames gave him. Interfacing was something he could get whenever he wanted, had gotten it, but there were personal reasons too. A bad breakup being one. So didn't want to think about that.

Friends nudged him excitedly our of his thoughts as some of those very miners came in through the door. They'd washed themselves of course. Wouldn't do to be dirty for their wealthy hosts, but to a medic's trained optics they were in desperate need of some maintenance. A hitch in a step there, an arm that didn't extend right anymore.. Ratchet rolled his optics and looked away. Never mind they were gorgeous and made him ache. He forced himself to drink more of the swill in his cube.

 

 

Megatron had no idea why he was here. Following his friend, Impactor, into the bar, he was assaulted by the pounding music and the collection of muddled voices. Sheer cacophony. He could actually feel the base pounding through his struts. Em fields were everywhere, sliding past, slamming into him, bringing emotions not his own. A grimace pulled into place as it made his helm ache. He so wanted to be back in the quiet of the mines with his datapads and his thoughts. The mech wouldn't mind some extra energon, but he had no interest in the trinkets or interfacing that the others were eager for.

Impactor knew his friend was to young for interfacing, as young mechs were oblivious to it all until they reached a certain age, but he wanted Megatron to at least know what to do if it was needed. And besides, bars were fun. Megatron needed to socialize more. "Just dance." Said for the grimace. A grin spread, his golden optics bright. "Just once."

There was a grunt lost in the volume, and Megatron's engine grumbled. His close kept field expressed only unease. It bristled to keep others at bay. "I don't know how to dance."

"That doesn't matter."

Another miner pushed at Megatron from behind, "Keep moving. I want a drink."

They muscled their way through the crowd to get nearer the bar. Megatron was trying to take it all in, but there was too much. Hands at his back kept him moving. Until he nearly bumped into Impactor.. who was found to be kissing a smaller mech. That was sure fast. Impactor had all but stumbled onto him and simply began kissing. His friend passed Megatron a not quite full drink, and the taller mech took it gingerly. Like it could bite him. He passed it to the mech behind him without even looking.

"Thanks!" Said the miner behind him in delight. It was soon downed in a gulp.

Impactor grinned at him, arm around a blushing, much smaller mech. "Dance." Was ordered.

Then they both left him alone. In a sea of mechs. He was jostled, he was fondled once, and he was starting to lose his temper. The fondling mech was lucky he hadn't been spotted. 

Rejecting drinks offered at him, field a huge, spiky mess of agitation, desperate to get out of the press, he looked over the gathering. Dance. In this? Plates lifted and shifted before resettling as he considered his options. This place was filled with such contrast. The big mining frames, all rough from toil, and the gleaming metals of the smaller wealthy. 

But then one caught his eye. He shifted to get a better angle through the ever shifting crowd. At a table were four mechs. All in whites and reds. Medic glyphs. One was being pulled willingly away by a miner he knew of as Crunch. But that wasn't what caught Megatron's attention. One of them, sitting hunched, looking bored, playing with a drink he clearly didn't enjoy, was.. plain. Glancing around Megatron took in the vast array of ornate designs before returning to the medic who was now absently sucking drink off a digit he'd dunked in the glass. Boxy, white with touches of red, his only ornament was a simple, black chevron on his brow. The ugly duckling among a flock of preening peacocks. That couldn't be by chance, could it? Even the miners weren't made that plain.

Waving off another drink, Megatron was moving before he'd even realized he'd decided. Impactor was his amica, and no matter he hated this, he felt obligated to at least try. Crossing the floor in long strides, he ignored the protests of those that all but bounced off an unstoppable force.

 

Ratchet was trying to listen to his friend, but he just couldn't focus for all the noise. The two remaining mechs were a little jealous of their third getting chosen, but not surprised. That one always got picked first. He was pretty. But they weren't a bit prepared as a large form loomed over the table right behind Ratchet. The feel of the field made the medic slowly straighten. It was electric, powerful. Intense. It made his whole body clench in delicious ways. Fans kicked in without his being able to stop them, but he did manage to stop every plate on his frame from lifting in reaction. His friends were gaping as a large engine rumbled enough to where he could hear it over the din, "Dance with me?"

Ratchet looked back at white thighs and black hips. Then shifted to crane his helm around to see an expanse of white hood with reflective paints in bands. Then shifted again as he angled his gaze upwards. His spark skipped a beat. "..What?" He asked stupidly. It took everything he had not to melt off the chair and hide under the table.

"Dance with me." The red optics bored into him, pinning him to the chair.

Ratchet blinked, "Me?" Asked back. Stupid. Why can't you think!? "You want to dance with.. me?" His field was reeling. The big mech felt of embarrassment and discomfort. Out of sorts.

Megatron was taking it all wrong. Arrogant little... "Yes." He growled, optics narrowing. Fingers were curling inwards towards palms.

Fields slid against one another, crackling on the miner's side of things. But then.. then the medic smiled. It was the sweetest expression Megatron had ever experienced. A field expressing only simple delight spooled around his own, chasing away the crackle of anger. The unease. There was nothing to be embarrassed for here. It immediately made him begin to relax in spite of himself. 

"I would love to." Ratchet beamed as he leapt to his peds, table and friends forgotten.

Megatron was surprised to find the medic came up to the top of his chest. Far taller than he'd seemed hunched in that chair. Hands settled to his arms, light, not a bit controlling, and yet he found himself trapped there. By delicate, red hands, and bright blue optics. By that smile. He could feel the other's field gently sussing out something in his own. It was a distinctly odd sensation.

"..Outside?" Ratchet asked, having found the answer his field sought, looking away from the throng to the dark glass that separated an open balcony from the rest of the bar. It was the cold season, so shut down for the night.

Megatron wasn't certain. That seemed overly private to him. The medic's field immediately filled him with support and assurance.

"Just a dance." Was promised. Somehow the medic knew exactly what to say. That should have made him wary, yet somehow it couldn’t.

Slowly Megatron nodded, and with that he was pulled to the dark, opaque doors, which opened for them both. The cold hit them like a wave. It wasn't really that cold out to be honest, but the bar had been filled with a lot of venting mechs, and thus the heat was rising. Megatron did some vented himself, in relief, as the frame vibrating volume of the music faded to a drone with the closing of the door. The balcony was large, and at the moment empty. Tables and chairs were neatly stacked to one side. "...I don't know how to dance." He admitted in a low rumble, not trying to sound ashamed. To not let it show in his field.

Ratchet looked up, and then gave him that sweet smile a second time. A hand slid into his own, larger one. "Then I'll teach you." Like it were the easiest thing to do.

How the medic could make him move Megatron wasn't sure, but he was pulled to the open space in the middle. That strange field coaxed and conjolled, all light touches.

"You're from Tarn, right?" Ratchet asked, optics canted up. So very plain in appearance, but so rich an em field. There were depths there Megatron couldn't fathom. A control that Megatron could barely grasp at.

Megatron slowly nodded, "You.. can tell from looking at me?"

Ratchet found himself chuckling, "I'm good at what I do." Boasting but strangely honest all at the same time. "Do you know of the Tarn Step Dance?"

Megatron had to shake his head. No, he didn't.

That didn't seem to dampen the medic's spirits any at all. "You'll pick it up fast." Ratchet seemed so sure of it.

“Okay,” Ratchet said as he turned himself to face the same direction as Megatron. His back to the white and black front. Hands lifted, letting him go, and the mech stomped a ped down hard twice, in rapid succession. “We start like this..”

Megatron did of course pick it up fast. The steps were simple, if lively. Made for mechs who lacked dexterity and did heavy, brutal work all day. But Megatron wasn't lacking in dexterity much to the delight of his dancing partner, and as he became more comfortable the dance grew more involved. Their fields gradually interlocked, Ratchet's delight swirling among intense focus as they rapidly moved through intricate motions like a well oiled machine. They lost one another in that feel. 

It was all fast paced, and to Megatron's surprise, fun. Never mind they were creating their own kind of music, the bar completely forgotten. The beat of their peds on the flooring drummed out all they needed to hear.

Finally, vents heaving out heat as fast as they could process, fans a blur, Ratchet stilled, hands against Megatron's chest. Oh was his engine revving too. He was radiant, field a glow. It was captivating. "You.." He panted. "You are incredible." In fact he was kind of struggling to slip himself free from the other’s intense field. It didn’t want to let him go. He wasn’t sure he wanted it to.

Not in any better shape, engine rumbling and fans working hard, Megatron found his hands spread across the medic's back, wanting to trap him. He struggled for something to say, and blurted, "You’re.. provocative."

Ratchet's delight jerked up a notch. "Now there's a word I wouldn't have expected." He didn't clarify on exactly what he meant. That a miner would know it, or that someone would find him so.

Megatron felt his face color, for there wasn't enough coolant after all this to hide under. He was normally very careful with his vocabulary. "I..." No, the miner wasn't suppose to know such words, but Ratchet merely tightened his fingers against the other's hood.

"Never apologize for being the amazing mech you are." Ratchet's words were firm. "I so need a drink." The mech huffed, all vents working in sync. He actually steamed in the cool night air. Plates lifted and resettled for the action. "Want one? I know I want another dance. Or dozen." He rapped on the big, white hood with a knuckle and all but danced off, back into the noise and din. "Wait for me!" was called back with a grin.

Megatron found himself shivering in the sudden wash of cold that the absence of Ratchet's field left. He too vented, only making it worse. He'd never felt so alone. The sensation was alien to a miner who'd almost never been alone before, but craved it.

Ratchet dove into the throng. Spread his field out and every mech he touched moved out of his way. Like the parting of the sea ahead of him so he could reach the bar. None of the mechs had any idea why they moved. Most didn’t even notice they had, nor the medic who passed them.

For the bartender he smiled and bought both coolant and normal energon. Nothing alcoholic. When he returned, he shooed away a little mech peeking through the doors at the wide back standing at the railing, and strode across the balcony. The coolant was offered first. "Here. You'll need this." The other glasses were laid out on the wide railing. Ratchet downed his own coolant glass, only to pause as he found the view over the railing was amazing. A huge swatch of Kaon flowed out below them. "Wow."

Megatron accepted the coolant carefully, finding himself relaxing as Ratchet's field buffered his once more. He'd never seen the view either, which was what had drawn him to the edge. He had no idea what to say, so said nothing. Glimmering lights snaked out onto the horizon, clusters of sharp spires rose in clumps, but mostly the mountains loomed in faded shades.

"Drink your coolant." Ratchet grinned at him. putting an empty glass down. "I have more dances you need to learn." Seemed hungry for it too strangely enough. But for the moment he leaned forward to take in that incredible view.

Megatron was noting that the medic's field hid itself very well. While the medic felt young and light of spark, the field was in fact highly controlled. It gave off not what Ratchet was feeling, but what the medic wanted it to show. The emotions weren't lies, as he was enjoying himself immensely, but his thoughts were invisible. "How do you do that? Control your field.."

Ratchet's field didn't show the surprise he was feeling as Megatron trailed off. Yet it very much shared more of his delight. Megatron was proving to be anything but a brutish miner. "I'm very good at everything I do." Said in a coy manner, hand brushing over Megatron's own. But he didn't mean to play with the other, and soothed away a flare of anger with touch and field. "I trained for it." Smiling up, nudging him to drink the coolant.

Megatron decided this was a good idea and did so. The glass soon tinked down on the ledge, empty. "They have training for that?" A frown formed for the thought.

"Clearly." Ratchet teased. unable to help himself. Never could curb his tongue. "It's not well known really. A dying art you may say." A touch of melancholy there.

Megatron frowned further, not liking the teasing. He decided to ignore it. "Why would it be dying?" He was so careful with words, and this medic wasn't at all.

Ratchet sidled in to the bigger mech as the cold began seeping in. The feel against that big engine was intoxicating. Yet he didn't try for anything more than shared heat. He could feel the age of the miner and respected the boundaries set for him. A current boundary that Megatron seemed accepting of as he wrapped an arm around the medic. The young just didn't feel desire for a good century or two. "Well.." Ratchet started with once he was more comfortable. "Two reasons. One it's a skill not everyone can pick up, and the second is because it's council regulated." Which meant the elite controlled it, and the mechs who practiced it.

Every mech understood what that meant. Ratchet was a comfortable slave with many freedoms, but just as owned as Megatron was. Such was life on Cybertron. "So it's part of the medical field." Of which Megatron knew little of to be honest.

"In a way." Ratchet shrugged. "It's a branch of psychology, which I am so not forged for." It brought the medic to grin. "That is something I'm not good at." He actually laughed, "I knew it'd help me be a better medic so I pushed for it. Trained in it. Practiced it for years, then returned to being a medic."

Megatron was shocked for that, "You changed functions?" It was nearly unheard of, and he couldn't stop the sound of longing and the touch of jealousy in his tone. He would have preferred being a medic to a miner himself.

Ratchet again shrugged, voice subdued. The field kept up being warm and supportive. "Kind of? I was still a medic as the fields are related.. Slag, I don't even know your designation! Will you forgive me not asking? I kind of got caught up in the dancing." He grinned upwards, leaning against the other for it, enjoyment shared through fields again.

"Megatron." Was offered with a rumble.

The grin got wider somehow. He liked those rumbles. "I'm.. Ratchet." 

"You hesitate."

"I do." Ratchet gave without apology. "Let's dance some more." He didn't want to talk about the sticky issues of his convoluted personal life anymore. The mech pulled away, and he sought Megatron's hands. Some tugging pulled the miner away from the railing. "I want to dance."

And so they did. Ratchet somehow knew many dances, but they grew slower, and more intimate, as the night passed. The medic never tried for anything that involved intimacy, leaving Megatron to enjoy himself. The bright mind, sharp tongue, and radiant field of the medic kept pulling him back close. He treated Megatron not as a toy, but as an equal. The miner truly relaxed into such a feeling.

By the time his alarm was blinking at his hud insistently, Megatron was holding Ratchet close as they circled the balcony in a lazy waltz. Both were tired, but not wanting it to end. Sadly he allowed them to stop. "I have to go." Rumbled down to the white helm.

A helm that snapped up in dismay. "..Megatron.." Ratchet's features echoed the emotion in his words.

"It's late. My shift begins all too soon."

Understanding dawned. Miner's didn't get much leeway. Ratchet pulled slowly away until he was merely holding the other's hands. "I won't keep you then." For all he longed to. To recharge in this mech's arms would have been a dream. Hesitating a moment, the medic then smiled up at the other, em field all radiance and light. It contrasted so sharply with his plain appearance. "Thank you. I truly mean that." He gripped the dark hands he held.

Megatron was left basking in that field, reluctant to leave it. Finally he could only nod, and pull away. While he had to force himself, he turned and strode back to the noise of the bar. He didn't let himself look back. But as he was grasping the door handle he heard, "Megatron, wait!"

Peds sounded rapidly over floor and then in a rush of field Ratchet was there. The medic merely pressed two cubes of energon at him. "Take it." Not then waiting for an answer, Ratchet jerked open the door, gave Megatron a sly grin, and was gone into the crowd. The music hit Megatron like a blow and he rocked back on his peds. His field kept reaching for another that wasn't there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic comes with pictures. :) I've been drawing for more than thirty years, so had to add some images.
> 
> My Tumbler: http://ralloonx.tumblr.com/  
> Deviant Art: https://ralloonx.deviantart.com/  
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Close up of same image:  
> 


	2. Chapter 2

"You.. danced?" Incredulous, the medic, Stretcher, stared at Ratchet. They had moved seats so that they could face one another on the shuttle that was taking them back to Iacon. It too was showing signs of heavy wear, but the mesh padding of the seats was at least clean. The floors were dubious at best and no one looked too close.

Clipper grinned where he slouched, looking decidedly scuffed up in some telling, and delicious ways, "Was it dancing.. or ...dancing." Innuendo was thick for that last word. It brought three of the group to laugh. They were all tired, and most still a little buzzed. "Horizontal dancing." Some crude gestures made clear what didn't need to be clarified.

"Vertical wall dancing. Hmmm..."

"Bent over the railing dancing."

Ratchet sat at the window, chin in hand, and vented a sigh at the lot of them. "Just dancing." He insisted, letting his free hand dismiss them all. "For Primus' sake! He was a mechling. Probably young enough that you could interface right next to him and he'd not be affected. I wasn't going to take advantage."

Well, they could all understand that, drunk or not. Younglings who were forced into interfacing developed all kinds of emotional troubles later. It was Stretcher who asked, "Was he good at least? You two were out there all night."

Ratchet slouched even further, unable to stop the smile that spread, "He was utterly amazing. In every way."

There was a pause before the whole group cackled and tittered. "You got it bad." The laughing continued even as Ratchet started to smack them in agitation.

 

 

Impactor leaned a huge shoulder against the rough wall as he looked to Megatron. The mech was sitting on a slab of stone as he worked a much abused datapad. He never understood Megatron's hunger for knowledge. "Your medic is back." They were in the mines. Endless corridors of stone and darkness. Voices drifted back to this corner of the living area, but soon faded away. Lanterns hung from bare wires slung along the walls. They were few and far between. It was a cold place with no comforts.

It'd been months since that night, and Megatron hadn't returned to the surface in all that time. The memory of the medic's field haunted him in ways he couldn't give name to, and he disliked it. The feeling was new, alien, and he couldn't quantify it properly. He didn't like how the new sensation made him want. The miner stilled in some telling ways for the news, plates pulling in, but then said only, "And?" His room was picked due to the lantern that hung right outside, giving him light. There were no personal items here, as Megatron had few.

"And.." Impactor drawled out, "You should go see him." Pushing from the wall he trundled his way over, field showing his amusement. The two were good friends, so Impactor was allowed to join him on the slab that was Megatron's berth. "You really liked spending time with him." Both of them were filthy, not having washed in days, but that was normal. Impactor brushed at an arm idly, trying to rub off some persistent crystal dust.

There was a noncommittal grunt, no matter it was true. Megatron's engine growled his discomfort at the topic. "I hated the club. I'm not going back." He kept his optics on the pad, but just couldn't read the glyphs there. Memory kept showing him that sweet smile. The bright optics. That exotic field... He nearly broke the pad in holding it too tightly, and made himself put it in his subspace. Those were a rare commodity.

"I don't mean the club." Impactor smiled, knowing that his knowledge would be of interest to his amica. "He's joined the clinic that's started up topside."

The white helm jerked up and he stared at Impactor a time, thoughts chaotic. "I wasn't aware there was a clinic." Megatron frowned again, his words expressed only slowly. Totally avoiding the topic of Ratchet for the moment. He'd never even told Impactor the mech's designation. 

Impactor nodded, knowing the avoidance for what it was. "Started up not long ago. They even take miners." Which was unheard of down here in the darkness. "They don't even take credits. It's all free for us. The tourists have to pay, but miners don't." He was intrigued at the idea. "The wait time sucks though. It'll likely take your whole rest day and you may not even be seen due to how busy they are."

Megatron had never heard of such a thing. Charity was little known for his rank and file. They had few freedoms. Terminus had showed him charity however, as well as kindness. Another rarity for miners. "A medical clinic that is.. free?" Terminus was the sire he could never have had being cold constructed, and he knew how lucky he was in having a mentor.

Impector nodded, eagerly. "Let's go on our freeday? It'll be boring, but we might be lucky if we hurry." The idea of maintenance was a thrill for the mech. A luxury they were seldom afforded. Repairs were sometimes made depending on how badly injured a mech was, but some were simply taken away and never returned. All knew what it meant. Mechlings learned their lessons quickly, or painfully.

Megatron found himself torn. He wanted to stay here in the dark and quiet, but he also wanted to feel that field again. For all his ability to control his field, not even Ratchet could have controlled how perfectly they fitted together while they were working in unison. There was something there Megatron wanted to explore. And wanted to avoid all the same time. He was conflicted. "Very well." Came the low rumble after a long pause for some serious thinking.

Impactor waited, knowing his friend. That one's processor was always busy. Always. If you didn't wait for Megatron to consider all the variables you got told no. Now he beamed and clapped the other on the wide pauldron. Unlike others, Megatron didn't even flinch. "Great! Set your alarms.. I want to be there when they open."

Megatron's engine grumbled a reply.

 

Unfortunately they weren't the only ones with that idea. They arrived to a line of miners straggling out from the clinic door. The only saving grace was that it was a short line. Megatron growled, but settled in with his amica. Impactor grinned at him just the same. "Going to be a long day." Said with strange enthusiasm. And so they waited. Dawn crept up over the horizon, allowing them to watch it. None of the miners missed watching it either. Even the oldest of them had seen few. Of course, beyond that illumination, it was a long wait.

The strip was quiet at this hour. None of the entertainment businesses were open, not even the trinket shops. There were mechs moving around to clean up last night's excesses, and even found a few drunks in alleys to shoo away. The place looked washed out and worn in the sunlight. Only darkness and neon made it look alive.

The clinic doors slid open to show a lovely, little mech in reds with some white. She had clear medical symbols on her hood. As she regarded the line, growing longer already, there was resignation. Then firming up her resolve she motioned to the first few. "We can take in four of you at a time. You four.. go ahead inside. Take a seat on the benches. The rest of you can enter when you see another leave. Be ready to answer some questions, and for things to take time." With her shooing the big mechs like a determined, and tiny, terrier, bouncing around their legs, five moved inside. The line shifted forward every so slightly.

When he finally reached inside the clinic, Megatron wasn't sure what to expect. The plain interior surprised him regardless. Two large benches lined the walls coming in, three miners sitting there, waiting, and smaller mechs standing near two of them, asking questions. Notes were taken down on datapads. A monitor played something from the vids, and there were two desks tucked in the back. Four doors could be seen, but all were closed. He recognized one of the medics that had accompanied Ratchet to the bar all those months ago, and that one waved him forward. There was a smile of recognition. Megatron had left an impression on them all with just 'You want to dance with me?'. "Hello!" He motioned the big mech to sit at the one open space, and hurried over as Megatron settled down there. Stretcher was much shorter than most everyone here, excepting the femme. "What's your designation?" Asked pleasantly. 

Megatron hesitated before giving, "98473H-Tarn-B6." Miners gave themselves names among themselves, and tended to be the only ones to use them with one another.

The medic nodded without missing a beat, not looking up from the pad. "Anything you'd rather me call you?" His field was calm, but tired. No one here had control like Ratchet did. Then again Megatron had never met anyone like that before.

Another hesitation, his engine grumbling. "Megatron."

That had Stretcher's helm lifting. "Like from Megatronus?" But he smiled. It was weird for sure, but who was he to point digits at anyone? When Megatron merely nodded, the medic continued on. "When was your last maintenance?"

"Never."

No surprise there, for all Stretcher hated it. The miners were treated like complete scrap by their owners. He merely nodded and asked, "Are you here for any specific reason? Something that hurts? Trouble transforming? The more we know, the easier it all gets."

Megatron considered and finally shook his helm to signify no. "Maintenance."

"You're a stoic one." Stretcher smiled at him, amused. "Alright then. Wait until you're called, please." A touch to a white pauldron and the medic moved away. 

There was more waiting. Medics wandered in and out of rooms, or worked at desks. The miners chatted, watching the vid, but Megatron kept his thoughts to himself. As he always did. Especially when he was nervous. Impactor soon joined him on the bench, answering his own questions to the little mechs in white and red who ran this place. Seeing his friend get to go back before he did made Megatron a little angry, but that soon faded when his name was called almost immediately after. He found himself in what was to him a tiny room, looking at Ratchet. The room itself had a large medical berth squarely in the center, monitors and scanning boom arms folded back into rest mode. Otherwise there was a shelf along the back and crates below it. Functional to extremes. Not even a window to look out of.

The door closed and Ratchet was busy at the back with something. He motioned a hand absently, "Lay on the berth." It wasn't a request. But the moment Megatron stepped in range of his em field, the medic found himself straightening. Oh. Turning to hide the shifting of his plating and some fans wanting to kick in, he also found himself smiling. "Megatron!" Turning, moving forward, he put his hands on the berth that lay between them. "I'd hoped you would come."

Megatron simply staring down at the other, trying hard not to relax in the feel of the other's field. It still.. made him feel things he wasn't sure he was ready for. "You did." Not quite a question.

Ratchet laughed for it, "How couldn't I? You're in desperate need of some maintenance. Come on.. hop up. This will take a while." He patted red hands on the gray surface and grinned. His field tugged at the other, playful.

It took Megatron a moment, engine sounding low, before he lumbered his way onto the berth. The whole action screamed reluctance. Ratchet knew not to question. Many of these mechs had absolutely nothing. Not even their own bodies were theirs. Asking them to submit to an invasive process was difficult. But Ratchet had dealt with such issues before, many times. He put a hand over Megatron's hood and smiled. His field spread a firm calm and assurance that nothing would go wrong. A calm that in spite of himself Megatron couldn't stop relaxing into. "You really didn't like the bar, did you?" The medic chatted as the other's em field shifted towards a less stressed demeanor.

The question was unexpected and Megatron's vents hitched in surprise. "No." he admitted.

Ratchet chuckled low, and pulled over a monitor with his free hand. He started a scan with some touches on the screen. A boom arm unfolding and moving down the length of the berth. Megatron watched it warily. Ratchet ignored it. "That would sure explain why I never see you there."

"You waited for me?"

Ratchet nodded, not the least bit embarrassed. "I wanted to dance again." His optics were on the results now sliding down screens. "You're memorable."

Megatron found his face heating and he frowned for it, then merely grunted, but there was no reply. He liked the feeling of being complimented when there was no immediate gain for the other in it.

The medic smiled, feeling the miner's field and answer just the same. "The clinic closes before the bars open, so feel free to find me if you want a dancing partner. We don't have to go to the bars to dance." When the miner again didn't reply, Ratchet merely patted his hood. "I'm going to have to open you up I'm afraid. You okay with that?"

Megatron was not, but Ratchet coaxed him into it, talking constantly to distract. Cleaning out systems that had never known any kind of repair, soldering tiny cracks that could barely be seen, making repairs to joints and stress centers, and even vacuuming out intakes that had pulled in tiny pebbles the big mech simply couldn't reach. That part of it was distinctly uncomfortable, but didn't hurt. Before he knew it, Ratchet was having him sit up after closing his plating. "Lift your right arm for me?"

"Why?" 

Ratchet was there before him, hand on hip as he looked up. "Because it hurts." Then he poked at the mech's hood. "Lift your arm." 

His field stood firm in the ire of the miner seated before him. The ire was because Megatron had few choices, and he hated taking orders. So Ratchet waited. And was rewarded by the arm lifted. He smiled up at the other then got in close. Deft, red fingers worked their way between plating, among the cables and circuitry that made up the mech before him.. and he took a firm hold. There he held some moments, listening to Megatron's field. Probing carefully with his own. Megatron shivered for how intimate the contact was. Which brought Ratchet to lift and shift. The miner's whole frame creaked somewhat alarmingly. Megatron's intakes took sharply of the air. Yet as Ratchet gently allowed everything to settle, the miner found an old ache no longer there. An ache so old that its absence felt strange.

"And you, memorable mech, are done." Ratchet moved back, smiling. He settled a short distance away, admiring the miner before him.

Megatron had been leered at many times, but this felt different. So he did nothing for it. Simply slid off the berth to his peds and flexed the arm and shoulder that no longer hurt. Once that arm lowered, he looked down and stilled. There was a long quiet moment as thoughts swirled. Only when he'd pulled the chaos into something more orderly did he murmur, "Thank you."

Ratchet nodded firmly. "I have other patients, so you can't linger, but I meant it.. Come by sometime, but only if you want to." His words were careful.

Megatron merely nodded and strode out, Impactor waiting for him.


	3. Chapter 3

Megatron never came back to dance, much to Ratchet's disappointment.

The medic remained in Kaon for years just the same, and not for hope of seeing an over sized mechling that could dance well. Sure that want was there, but Ratchet had other issues he was avoiding. A bad breakup with Pharma being the main one. Pharma hated Kaon with a passion Ratchet didn't understand, and wouldn't go there. That made it the perfect place to hide. Didn't stop the comms and messages from coming in. Some days endlessly. Each one angry Pharma. They all blended after a while and Ratchet stopped listening.

Ratchet ignored the job offers that came in as well. He didn't need credits, he certainly had had enough of prestige, and he enjoyed helping the miners. They were always earnest in their thanks. They shared what simple kindnesses they could. While his staff changed pretty constantly, he got to know the miners fairly well. It was such a pleasant change from dealing with the politics of the spires.

Some calls were gladly taken. Jazz, Mirage, and Orion were not forgotten during his efforts to hide from Pharma. Their concerns were brushed off, but their company always welcome. That he stayed in Kaon truly worried them.

Tonight though Ratchet was alone, and glad for it. Until there was a knock at his habitat door. A knock? He knew the buzzer wasn't broken. Putting aside the drink he'd only just poured, putting down the new reading material he'd only just managed to acquire, he stood from the couch he'd only just laid down on... "What?" Demanded in a disgruntled manner. Tonight was suppose to be such a good night too! He was of a mind to ignore that knock completely.

Until he got within reach of the field beyond that door. Their fields met and molded together almost immediately. Megatron. There was no mistaking it, and he hurried to unlock the panel before Megatron even managed to say anything.

And there the miner was, mouth open. Nothing was said however, and that mouth clicked shut.

What Ratchet saw chilled his spark. "What did they do to you?!" The miner's frame had been altered with armor. All heavy plates and dangerous angles. If he hadn't been horrified at the implications it'd have made his core temperature rise. Armor on a miner meant the Pit.

"I need your help." Megatron said quietly.

It was only thanks to Ratchet being good under pressure that moved him onto autopilot. There was a nod as he pulled back, allowing Megatron in. The medic totally wanted to freak out. The Pit! To the miner the habitat was tiny. If he shifted his weight to the front of his peds he'd hit the ceiling. So it was a hunched and careful stoop that brought him inside. There wasn't much here to Megatron's surprise. Some furnishings, images on a wall, and nothing else. It wasn't the room of a wealthy mech, which he thought Ratchet was. Which the medic actually was. Ratchet asked, allowing the door to close, "What can I do for you?" He felt numb.

"The.. plating feels wrong." Megatron admitted. He couldn't bring himself to call it an upgrade. It sure didn’t feel like an upgrade. "I leave tomorrow."

The medic's field rolled with distress, but soon he brought it under firm control. "I'll get my tools." With that Ratchet disappeared out the door, heading to the clinic below. His ped steps sounded a rapid tattoo on the stairs.

It left Megatron to look at the pictures. The habitat had nothing else. There wasn't even a window. He didn't know most the mechs in them, but Orion was a surprise to find. Orion was an archivist assigned to the Bibliotheca Primus, or the first library. They had yet to meet, but Megatron was always intrigued by their communications. 

There was one image that drew his attention. A trio of mechs he found himself staring at. Two of them were delicate things - rich in hues, lots of etchings and jewelry. Beautiful. He'd seen some like them in the bars topside. They were always in high demand among the miners. But one was unique. Rich cherry red in color, accented in delicate silver, the mech had no ornamentation, no etchings, and needed none. He was stunning, elegant. Even in the image he came off as playful. All sleek lines, and streamlined chassis. Like a mech from the golden age. Not a flier, but clearly emulating them to a degree. Even had unusual wings of a sort made of tires and panels. He made the other two down right gaudy by comparison. When the door behind him hissed open, Megatron asked, "Where is this mech from? I've never seen anything like him."

Ratchet had a medical tote in hand, and eased it down to his living room table. Everyone asked about that one. Didn't look over as he asked, "The red one?"

The tone made Megatron look back. He couldn't parse the emotions the medic wasn’t giving off in field and only in voice, so merely said, "Yes."

"He's not from anywhere. That's a custom frame design. Built from the ground up."

Megatron had never heard of such a thing. The cost of it alone would have been insane. It brought his gaze back to the image. "He's.. beautiful." He touched the image so very carefully, afraid he'd break it. Words failed him.

Ratchet said simply, "Thank you."

This brought Megatron to turn sharply back to the medic. "Is.. that you, or did you design that?" It so made his processor ache trying to parse it all. He remembered the medic saying he’d changed functions not once, but twice, and now there was the implication he’d changed frames multiple times. With the Functionists in power, that was a privilege few could be granted.

Ratchet slowly nodded, hands on the tote handle, and said, "Yes." To both the questions. He didn't let Megatron ask more, and motioned an impatient hand. "Come here. I'll need you to kneel down."

Megatron tore himself from the wall, thoughts working hard. So many little comments and reactions were rising from memory, trying to form coherent streams. "You designed yourself?" But he did join Ratchet and knelt down near the medic. Each movement showed the discomfort he was in. Instead of the youngling that danced so easily, he moved like an oldtimer at the end of his days.

"Yes." Was said again as Ratchet stepped in, starting to inspect the armor. It was poorly done and he said so, "This is slagging poor work! Who did this?"

This derailed the miner's thoughts some, and he admitted, "The Pit medic."

"I wouldn't call this the work of a medic." Ratchet grumbled, engine scolding. His hands worked, sliding in between panels and tracing cables. "This is going to hurt." Was warned sourly. Hunched over Megatron, he began to heft and haul portions of the large frame this way and that. Just as he had in realigning Megatron’s shoulder. Sadly this time he had to realign the whole frame. His field was carefully controlled and he listened hard before each adjustment. Megatron had no idea just how much skill it took to do this by feel alone, or how few medics could do it at all.

With pain being an old, if unwanted, companion, Megatron had plenty of time to think no matter how much it hurt. He grunted as his whole frame creaked for the medic's efforts, but his thoughts were on other things. "Why.. Then why are you.."

"An ugly looking mech you'd glance over in a nanosecond?" Ratchet asked back, amused. He grunted himself as he pulled up, then leaned sharply left, pulling much of Megatron with him. The plating was heavy.

Megatron's field bristled, "You aren't ugly."

That made Ratchet laugh in spite of himself, field soothing. "Thank you. But my current appearance is quite on purpose."

"Why?"

"Hold on.." And with that Ratchet heaved again. It didn't sound pleasant. Grating sounds warred with a sharp tang of metal. There was an intense burning pain.. then everything suddenly felt better. Ratchet stopped there and encouraged the relaxing in Megatron's field that followed. "The truth is.. I designed that other frame too well." Explained as he gave the miner a breather to let the hurt fade. "I was exotic, optic catching.. Everything I thought a mech could ever want in such circumstances."

When the quiet after that continued on too long, Megatron looked up at the medic and asked, "And?"

Ratchet huffed through vents, laying a red hand on the white helm. His voice became subdued. "I learned only too fast how empty it was. You know what it's like. Wanted for your frame. Wanted for what you can do for them, not who you are. The unwanted advances, the insistence of some, the threats of others when you say no..." He paused before adding, "No one wanted /me/, just what I looked like. So when I was done I switched out to the most boring, practical frame I could possibly think of. I wanted mechs to spend time with me because of who I was, not what I looked like." It wasn’t the whole story, but that’s all he was willing to tell at that time.

It left Megatron quiet. It was true. He did know what it was like. All the miners did. 'When he was done.' Done with what the miner wondered. Finally he found himself asking, "Who are you hiding from?"

The insight had Ratchet surprised, but smiling. Oh how this mech intrigued him. His desire, hidden from the other, soon turned to dread as he remembered the Pits. The gladiatorial pits of Kaon were a death sentence. Ratchet forced himself to give an easy laugh before admitting, "Everything. Myself."

Again there was that thoughtfulness, but before Megatron could speak, Ratchet bluntly said, "I have to open your chest." It was apologetic. "If I ever find the mech who did this I'm detaching his arms and feeding them to him! I have to align your spark casing or you don't be able to walk right after the first punch."

Megatron's field folded in on itself. That was a painful subject for some reason.

Ratchet waited patiently, standing over the miner with a hand on his helm.

Finally Megatron nodded. There was reluctance in every line as he shifted off his knees and carefully laid himself down on the habitat floor. He barely fit, even with his knees pulled up. Chest plates released with a soft depressurizing.

It brought Ratchet to step over, straddling the other, and to gently pull the layered plates to expose the spark within. It glimmered brilliantly, pale green and flecks of gleaming gold. The sight of it brought the medic to gape. He had only seen another such spark, in Orion, and he never had expected to see the first, much less this one too.

Megatron's field pulled in with bitterness and a dull self hatred as he misread the gaping. "I know. I'm a glitch."

That startled Ratchet and his optics snapped to Megatron's face as he leaned over the other. "What?!" Indignation broiled in his field, and below his hunched form Megatron winced for the power of it. That made Ratchet reel himself back in. "Who told you that?!" He was suddenly angry. So very angry.

Megatron frowned in the wash of it, more baffled than afraid. Perhaps he should have feared that anger and temper, but he felt there was no need for fear. "..Anyone who's seen my spark." Was admitted, engine rumbling unease.

Boldly Ratchet put a hand over that pulsing spark. "This..." He stopped himself, trying to control his temper. Megatron didn't deserve his anger in any way. Also a spark wasn’t an it, it was a person. Venting, the medic tried again. "/You/ are not a glitch." His tone was firm, his resolve unbreakable. "You have an alpha spark, Megatron. A super spark. The rarest of the rare. Primus, no wonder you are so incredible." And he was going to the pits. The fear crept through his field no matter how good his control. This glorious youngling was being thrown to the literal wolves for the pleasure of the wealthy masses.

Megatron felt the fear, and in spite of reeling for this news he caught the wrist of the hand over his spark. "I am not going to die." It was defiant. His optics bored into Ratchet's.

Awash in that powerful field, Ratchet clung to the defiance. "You had better not." Angrily he worked his fingers around the spark casing, still held at the wrist, and together they shifted it. Their fields molded immediately and for all Megatron ground his denta due to pain, neither gave it voice. Ratchet was sharing that pain. There was an uncomfortable sound and everything slid into place proper. Both vented in relief as the chamber, now aligned, took the rest of the body with it. Plates, chassis, and internals all immediately relaxed. It was dizzying as fields shared intimately.

Ratchet found himself looking down at Megatron in the aftermath, hands cradling that chamber. He couldn't stop the desire he felt from being shared. They were to close. But neither moved until Megatron released that wrist. Ratchet kind of snatched his hands back, and pulled away as chest plates closed on their own. Leaving Megatron to struggle with the alien sensations. Ratchet stepped away, needing space, his em field pulled in close.

Megatron pushed himself up, resting back on elbows. His body finally felt his own again. "Come see me fight."

Not even having realized he'd put a hand over his mouth, Ratchet jumped at the voice. "What?" Dismay coiled in his field as he looked back.

Megatron patiently repeated, "Come see me fight."

"I..." Ratchet trailed off, engine hitching in a strange distress. "I can't." Was said simply.

Sitting up, Megatron's field reached out, angry. "You do all this..."

"I can't!" Ratchet snapped. Turning back, his field met Megatron's, but strangely there was only regret, not anger. "I can't, I was forged a medic. By law I can't go into an arena unless I'm working below. And that takes a slag of special allowances. I'm not allowed to view the ..events." They were called games, but he couldn't bring himself to call it that.

It felt so strange to have Megatron's field offer him comfort, but there it was just the same. Every time he reached out Ratchet felt swamped in all that Megatron was. How it managed not to be smothering he just didn't know, and he drew great comfort from it. With a bitter laugh he admitted, "I've no self preservation protocols when it comes to seeing the wounded. I'd be throwing myself off the balconies the moment energon spilled."

The hand at his mouth lifted to be dragged down his whole face. "It's why they cold construct medics these days. There are very few forged medics, and we're slagging stupid when it comes to the injured being in danger."

Megatron rose ponderously to his peds and came to loom over the medic. His field had already been doing so, and Ratchet leaned towards him without being aware of it. "I will not fail you." Was rumbled with firm resolve. Megatron knew how well the council controlled the rarer mechs, even if he wasn’t one of them.

That made Ratchet start, and look up, puzzled. It was like being brought into a long conversation somewhere in the middle without having known the first part. He wasn't privy to the miner's deep thoughts. Nor the events unfolding around him. The sheer amount Megatron had learned. "What does that mean?" He demanded. They'd both been doing that to one another. Hinting at issues, the slavery, their pasts, and their plans, but never being direct. Mostly due to not wanting to burden the other.

But Megatron didn't explain, and said only, "Thank you."

For all he felt suddenly like a limb had been cut free as the other's field slid away, Ratchet could say nothing as the miner left the habitat. The words caught, frozen inside him.

 

 

Ratchet remained in Kaon for a very long time. He’d settled into a nice routine and was left mostly alone. If one didn’t count some sweet, and very grateful miner friends. And even if none of them were any good at dancing, it did him a lot of good. He tried very hard not to learn anything of Megatron, expecting that beautiful youngling to be dead.

Until of course Orion found him one evening in his habitat going over some clinic records.

The buzzer sounded, and then twice more in rapid succession. The records were placed down and he looked to the door. Mostly due to the frantic, and familiar, nature of the spark beyond the portal, he answered that buzzer. There stood Orion. Ratchet hadn’t seen him in many years, not that years meant much to a people who lived millions of them. “..Orion Pax?” He asked, blinking, hand at the door controls.

There was such relief on the young face that looked down at him. Orion wasn’t as tall as Megatron, but he was still taller than the medic. “You have to come with me.” Trying to articulate around his fear. “It.. Megatron has been hurt. They will not even try!”

Who they were that wouldn’t try, Ratchet didn’t know, but he never could deny those so very blue optics, and that heavenly voice. Still, “You know Megatron?” Megatron was still alive? Dare he hope? Cybertron wasn’t big on allowing hope.

That broke Orion from his thoughts and he stared down at his old friend. “I….” Just how did he sum up the huge mess that was his relationship with Megatron? “Hurry!” came blurting out as he gave up. Explanations would have to wait.

Ratchet nodded and pushed at the mech before him. “Move! Down stairs. I have to get my medical box.” He locked the door behind him and the two crashed down the stairs into the empty clinic below. “How far is he? What’s his condition?” Asked as Ratchet started throwing things aside to get at what he needed.

“He is.. he is at the arena.” Orion admitted, hands clenching and flexing constantly. He wanted desperately to help in the gathering of things, but had no idea at all what was required. 

Stopping, Ratchet stared back. “I can’t go there. Orion, I...” He stopped as he found himself grasped by the upper arms and shaken gently. His optics cycled huge as he looked up at the archivist. This was entirely unlike Orion.

“Please?” Asked so softly that it damn near broke Ratchet’s spark.

Ratchet shoved at him, freeing himself. “Okay! Okay!” Batting at Orion he gave himself some space to turn around and gather what he needed. The medic didn’t allow himself to think of the consequences that were going to follow. 

 

 

They got in easily thanks to another gladiator who had been waiting for them. Ratchet shifted up out of alt mode, medical tote in hand, and hurried after Orion and the other large mech. He actually wasn’t too small, but he sure felt tiny all the sudden. The arena was huge even by Cybertronian standards. Huge, in need of repair, and filthy below. Above he was sure it was lovely and clean, but the gladiators themselves got nothing of that.

Megatron was laying on the floor, in that dirt, his hood a mess. Most everything was a mess. It was by some small blessing he was merely offline and had not gone gray. Ratchet put his supplies down to crouch near the mech he had once danced with. A hand to hood, sensors working, told him everything important. Beyond all the system damage, his spark was guttering. It’d been hit.

“He’d won his match.” The gladiator who showed them in murmured. “But then the other mech pulled a blaster...” He couldn’t finish the thought, and trailed off.

Ratchet barely heard him as he worked at catches and seals, plugging himself into the mech laying prone to add to the diagnosis he was figuring out in his head. “His spark chamber’s been compromised, he’s gutting.” Firm, professional, and above all calm. He kept his field sedate and warm to ensure the others didn’t interfere. No one reacted well to seeing damaged sparks. Even so there were some gasps as Ratchet exposed the damage inside. It hadn’t looked as bad with the hood in place.

He didn’t waste any time being horrified. Ratchet got to work. The spark wasn’t even its proper colors at the moment. Barely a hint of green in fading white whorls. He had to get it back to green and gold. Wrapping himself in his field, pulling in close, Ratchet began piecing together the spark casing. Supporting the spark within.

He’d nearly finished when the spark flickered and dimmed. 

“No..” Ratchet breathed. Quickly he shoved tools into subspace and pulled out shock pads. Given a jolt to make it react, and enough energy, a spark would sometimes return.

He was watching the spark contract after a jolt when there was a commotion in the corridor. Ratchet didn’t even see the gladiator he didn’t have a designation for hurry away. A door locked. The spark started to fade.

Orion whispered, “Hurry...”

There was one thing he could do, but it was stupid. Really stupid. Ratchet choked on a laugh, remembering he’d once told Megatron how stupid he was when it came to the wounded.

Without a second thought the medic tossed shock pads aside and opened his own chest. It wasn’t a huge chance, but sometimes, if sparks merged, the stronger could reignite the wounded. Ratchet had no idea if he’d survive the process. 

“What are you doing?” Orion asked, horrified. Spark merges were suppose to be for love making. Procreation. Behind him there was a louder commotion and raised voices. The gladiator was fighting to deny entry. Ratchet couldn’t even acknowledge the sounds for what they were.

Ratchet didn’t reply as he straddled Megatron and all but thunked their spark chambers close. He worked his hands into the huge chest and cradled the other’s chamber even as he focused everything he was into giving an exchange of energy.

For Orion it was like watching two sparks disappear. During exchanges most fields expanded, but not this time. Ratchet focused in and in until he drove all that he was through Megatron’s spark.

He hadn’t been expecting the overload that followed. Megatron’s spark flared, pushing back, and Ratchet saw stars. In all the best ways. Pleasure rolled through him, igniting his brain in a delightful haze. Orion reeled back for the strength of it.

All were dazed in the aftermath and could do nothing to stop the Iaconian enforcers forcing the door open. They shoved Orion side and grabbed a hold of Ratchet. The medic was just start to reboot and found himself lifted off Megatron. His chest plating closing up all on it’s own. The spark below him was brilliant pale green again, luminous with glimmers of gold.

Then Ratchet recognized who was pulling him away. “No!” Suddenly he began to fight, but they were far too strong. “No! I have to finish! He’s dying!”

They turned deaf audios to his cries and carried him from the arena.

 

 

The flight from Kaon had been long and decidedly awkward. Mostly because Ratchet had fought them the whole way. To the point they put him in stasis cuffs to prevent any other issues. It wasn’t the first time, and it didn’t stop him from raising a stink verbally. Ratchet, it turned out, had learned a great many insults while in Kaon.

The private shuttle had dropped lightly down on a landing platform at one of the tallest, most private spires in Iacon. Not the tallest, as those were the temple and official buildings, but close. The enforcers hauled his unwilling chassis in and dumped him without ceremony on the highly polished floor. Ratchet scowled at his reflection there and pushed himself up. “Well?” He demanded from the mechs standing around him, jabbing his cuffed hands at one as he sat. There was a long vent and the enforcer leaned down to remove the cuffs. He even did it gently.

None of them helped him to his peds, and when a voice filtered down to him, soft and chiding, he almost was of the mind to keep his aft on the floor.

“Caduceus, you disappoint me.” The weary tone said that this wasn’t the first time.

Caduceus was his forged name. “Not the first time.” Said flippantly as he picked himself up. Caduceus glared at the mech lazily descending a floating stair case. He was big, and he was ornate, but he was not warrior built. Flight frame. To the enforcers he motioned a slender hand, “Dismissed.” They bowed and showed themselves out, shutting the door behind them.

Caduceus put a hand on hip flare and stood his ground as he was loomed over. He held his field in tight, not sharing anything. But he didn’t fight the lifting of his chin, not at first, and met the blue optics above him a moment before jerking away. But his chin was caught once more.

“No, not this time.” There was a sharp edge to the senator’s voice as he made Caduceus look at him. “I have had enough.” A firm hand turned his head once more, “Hmm.. And we are doing something about this hideous frame.”

 

 

In the beginning Caduceus was young, naive, and he had no idea just how special he really was. The only medic forged in two Blooms. Yet that wasn’t all. His mind was brilliant, adaptive, and he simply kept learning. He excelled at everything he laid hand to. From the moment he became aware, his awakening, he was in the hands of the council. They buffered him from the world, gave him all the knowledge his processor craved, and nurtured the rare gift. The medic was brilliant enough that they ignored his quick anger and sharp tongue. It would mellow in time. Time was what they all had.

He learned. Oh how did he learn. Caduceus thrived on it all. He was spoiled - given everything he could desire, but the council didn’t count on something. Caduceus was a good spark, but he was also a strong spark. Stubborn, willful, and as quick to learn other lessons as easily he did his medical ones.

Living in the lap of luxury, his career mapped out for him, fulfilling work during his day time hours, passionate embraces filling his nights, Caduceus found he simply wasn’t blind enough to miss the truth of it all. He saw clearly how poisoned everything was. How corrupt. Worst of all was finding his cage.

While a lovely prison, it still had bars. It made him angry, indignant, but there was no one to go to. No help. His mentors were his prison guards, his financial support his owner. It made him so very angry. He turned that sharp mind to rebelling. 

Which was distinctly unlike a forged medic as far as his owners were concerned. Forged medics had programming unlike other mechs. They also tended to be submissive. There was a deep seated, Primus made, need to help. Not simply a desire, but a need so entrenched most saw a mech in need and regardless of danger would do everything in their power to try and help. Even if it meant their own life. They literally had no choice in the matter. 

For Caduceus, brash and decidedly not submissive, it was a knife twisting inside his spark. Living in a world where everyone hurt, everyone suffered some kind of trauma, but he was not allowed to even try to fix it. Locked in his guilded cage, chained with other forms of code, and worst of all he couldn’t even fix the pain inside himself.

Carefully he began pushing against his cage, finding the limits, bullying his way to new ones. He began slipping away, finding out just how far his chains would allow. Exploring a Cybertron that he only too quickly learned was not the fantasy he’d been told it was. The filth, the pain, and the crushing hopelessness were only too real. Not caring about the dirt he soon wore, or the hunger burning in his tanks from low energon, he could finally fulfill those medic imperatives.

The council of course pulled him back. They gave him punishments that he found laughable. Mechs all over the planet were dying from simple lack of energon, and someone thought taking away a few luxuries was going to hurt him?! Luxuries he had abandoned to learn the truth. He kept pushing. Kept running away, unable to stop himself, always ending up somewhere helping someone. Once a medic, always a medic. It’d go on for a while before they sent someone out to fetch him.

Always a medic. That was part of the problem. As much as he truly wanted to lash out, he couldn’t. His own very nature kept him from being truly violent. 

When things grew too hot he’d simply slip back into a new field of study and let things cool off. The Council always eased off when he did that. They knew the constraints his own make put him under. It didn’t hurt he loved the learning. Would throw himself into the academies, get some degree in this or that, then slip his bonds again.

Once though, that kind of backfired on him. He’d learned of a rare field that taught one to control their em field. It was a branch of psychology that had become almost cloistered. So council controlled that it was difficult to get into the training. Caduceus bullied his way into it of course. Having grown fearless in their gentle treatment of him. He changed his frame to an elegant red at hideous cost to his owner, and was so proud of himself for it all. The training was grueling, difficult, and he thrived in the struggle. He also learned that while he was very good at the field aspects, he was not suited for the psychology side. Listening to elite mechs complain about trivialities was not one of his strengths even at the best of moments. But the electromagnetic field side was completely fascinating. And held aspects he wasn’t being taught. So Caduceus simply taught himself how to influence others through fields. He couldn’t control someone out right, and never wanted to, but if done right he found he could make mechs feel what he willed them to. Kind of nudge them along to doing what he wanted. Through practice he got good enough they couldn’t even tell he was doing it. That’s how he got through the psychology side of the training. Sheer stubborn determination along with a good deal of field tweaking.

Only too late did he realize what he’d gotten himself caught up in. He’d became what amounted to a high class escort. A pretty personal therapist. A concubine. Not that there were any stigmas attached to this on Cybertron. Interfacing was a social function, and paying for it perfectly legal. But.. the fact he was being sold to one of the elite so that he could soothe away minor stresses, and be of use on the berth… A new form of slavery. The elite had taken an entire profession and turned them into cincubines. Oh, did that gall. He fought! He threw some of the largest fits of his entire life, all carefully calculated, and through sheer force of will bullied his way out of it. Making everyone, including himself, pay.

He changed his frame again, to something simple. An armor against everything he hated, and he threw himself into studies once more. As it always had in the past it pulled the ire of the council off him again. Not that his owners were foolish, they knew the patterns by now, but they even then were all too lenient. If they had need, they simply brought him home.

That’s how he’d ended up in Kaon, in a bar. Unhappy, and bored, not wanting to be there.. and that’s how he met Megatron. It was time to run away again, especially considering Pharma, who was incensed at the change in frame. There in Kaon, in the lush rooms of a hotel, Caduceus got an idea. He’d have to return to Iacon first, but that would be brief. Remembering the touch of that exquisite field Megatron had, he smiled and laid a hand over his hood, and his spark. Pharma could be ignored. His own spark couldn’t.

Even as he was smacking his friends around for teasing him, on the shuttle back, Caduceus was thinking on the clinic he would open. The clinic he’d gouge his owner out of credits for.

Caduceus hadn’t counted on Megatron being a gladiator, or Orion befriending him though. Hadn’t counted on how he felt for Megatron, or that Orion would drag him into an arena he wasn’t allowed in to save Megatron’s life.

How it brought his owners to pull him back in one final time. They’d had enough. The worst of his punishments had been the closing of the Kaon clinic. He hadn’t even been allowed to find replacements for it. They simply shut it down and sent him his pictures on the wall. They put him to work. They bound him to Iacon, denied him the ability to travel, limited his range of freedoms, even changed his frame.. and for once he couldn’t fight it. 

He was reeling for the spark bond he’d discovered in the days after, and the life at the other end he knew could perish at any time. The fiery medic was subdued, compliant. His owner felt him chastised as they plunked him into a position at a prestigious hospital in the spires. There.. there he worked. Letting the work consume him.

Caduceus was an owned mech. Ratchet was free. He longed to be Ratchet again. 

He saw very little of the outside world after being brought back. Little of the events unfolding. Mostly because he didn’t want to. Seeing the news on the vids, hearing stories from other mechs, just made him want to explode into a rage. So he let his work at the hospital become everything. Sure he hated it, hated the mechs he tended to for their scuffs and dings and supposed agonies, but he knew there’d be no academy to escape to this time.

He truly missed the miners in Kaon.

The bond, in its strange way, helped. It kept him from sinking too low, or trying anything drastic. But he was also extremely careful with it. Dampened things down so that nothing from his side leaked through. Megatron didn’t know it was there. Somehow. And he didn’t want the other to know. While emotions channeled through sometimes when things were heated - anger, aggression, passion, even pleasure, Ratchet learned to filter out the emotions not his. Often he’d wonder what Megatron was doing, but never enough to break his cocoon. Not yet at any rate. 

Over time the bond dulled for his efforts. He stopped feeling anything through it at all.

Orion, feeling guilty, came often to see him. Jazz too, but not even that one could shake the medic from his funk. He shunned his friends after a while, not wanting to feel anything. This wasn’t even the longest mope he’d been on, but it lasted years just the same. He grew older. He grew bitter.


	4. Chapter 4

He dreamed of the death of Zeta Prime. His people didn’t dream often, their minds not requiring it, but the vision held him firm while he recharged. Emotions surged high, yet somehow never touched him. Never dimmed the blaze of spark, and clarity of mind, that allowed him to fight a prime. The battle high that came with it all. The blows were impressive. The building shook with their contest, and he laughed as Zeta hit him with the force that would have toppled a spire. The pain felt right. It meant he was doing what he must.

When he saw his moment it was perfect. How could the old fool be this bad? They were grappling, straining against one another, and he knew it was now or never. His field pulled back, coiled in around itself, and he drove it down hard, like a blade. Liked he’d done to save a life once, but now was turned to another purpose.

Zeta’s optics cycled wide as he reeled back in agony. While the ‘blow’ wasn’t a real thing, and instead pure emotion, it certainly felt real. 

It was almost simplicity itself after when he reached in a gap in the armor to grasp Zeta’s spark and crush it. The satisfaction he felt as the lights in those blue optics died was immense. He opened his fingers and let the spark turn to dust, its energy dispersing.

Ratchet’s systems launched him out of recharge as the body was going gray. Trembling violently on his berth, in his room, he stared at nothing, memories and mind locked on those last images. He’d.. he’d never killed before. Never fought anything like that. He didn’t know how! Yet there it all was. 

The link was alive, vibrant. Such satisfaction rolled through, but Ratchet was ruining it. His horror was spreading back. Quickly, he dampened down on his end. Clamped down hard even though it hurt. There in the dark, he shivered, hands clutched at his hood, over his spark.

It wasn’t until hours later that he learned it wasn’t merely a dream. Learned that Megatron had killed Zeta Prime. The Decepticons were rising. 

He had cleaned himself up and gone to work on autopilot. There, in the lounge, Ratchet had dropped the energon cube he’d taken, for his digits had gone nerveless. He began trembling again. The glowing liquid splashed all over his lower legs as he stared at the vid screen. Couldn’t even feel the stuff sliding over his plating. Someone was talking to him. He couldn’t hear. He had learned long ago he could never truly hide from himself, but he still tried. Pushing past an unseen face, Ratchet ran. Leaving the hospital and throwing himself into alt mode. He sped back to the buildings that held his habitat. Someone would come looking for him eventually, but for a time he sat in the dark and struggled with guilt.

It was Orion who found him days later. Curled on the floor in a corner, exhausted enough to finally find some peace in recharge. He’d been terrified he’d dream again, so had pushed it as far as he could, but thankfully no dream came. Not even for the near half a day he laid there, unconscious to the world. 

He was so gently shaken by an old friend, who’s voice was like a soothing balm.

“Ratchet?” The large mech was concerned he’d found his friend in a drunken stupor. Again. Thankfully that was not the case today. Kneeling down he touched the other’s shoulder. Then gave it a careful shake.

Optics onlined and cycled to focus. Ratchet was puzzled by what he found. “..Orion?” It was Orion, the em field told him that, but the form before him was much larger. Different. There was something in the big mech’s torso as well that defied his ability to touch fields. Ratchet pushed himself slowly off the floor to sit, expression baffled.

Orion touched his own hood in a near delicate manner. As if he expected his own strength to shatter it. “No, I am no longer Orion. Ratchet, my friend, I require your aid.”

“..What?” The words just weren’t parsing.

Orion took his upper arms and rose to his peds, lifting Ratchet as though he were weightless. “I am now Optimus Prime, Ratchet.” He set the medic down gently. “Megatron is killing Sentinal Prime, but I lack access to the spires. You do not.”

Ratchet put a hand to his helm and reeled. It was only thanks to Orion.. Optimus that he remained standing at all. “Meg.. who the slag is Sentinal Prime? How can we have two primes? What happened to..” To Zeta. No, he knew what happened to Zeta, didn’t he.

He’d killed someone. Protocols went into a tizzy about it.

His knees gave out but Optimus was still holding him.

“Ratchet!” The large mech gave him a good shaking. It brought Ratchet out of that stupor and he grabbed at the arms that held him. “Ratchet, I need you.”

“I..’ The medic looked up into blue optics and his spark stirred. Orion. He was needed by a friend. Someone who didn’t call him Caduceus. Ratchet pulled himself together for the first time in a while. “I’m here.” He gripped the arms that held him. Optimus once more set him down on his peds.

“We have little time.” And carefully Optimus let go.

Ratchet swayed, but stayed upright. “Lead the way.” There was a firm nod he knew he wasn’t feeling. “Who’s Sentinal Prime?”

Optimus didn’t let him stand around for questions and strode off. Ratchet had to hurry to keep up, two or three steps for every one of the larger mech’s. “A false prime who took power after Zeta’s demise. He has called Megatron out, and the other has answered.”

That didn’t sound good, but Ratchet didn’t ask more on it. The two left his habitat and took the lift down. “Then.. how?” He motioned his hands at his friend, kind of dismayed at his inability to articulate this. Just how had Orion become a prime?

“A story for another day I am afraid, old friend. We must hurry.” Optimus strode out, radiating assurance and power, then he transformed and sped off. Ratchet could only throw himself into alt mode and follow.

 

 

They drove into war zone. Ratchet had never seen anything like it. He prayed he’d never seen anything like it again.

Enforcers from multiple different factions, the elite guards of temples and senators, all fought against mechs the likes of which he’d never seen before. Military armor installed by crude hands. Yet they fought as though possessed. Weaponized sonics tore the air, shots from gattling guns rained down.. weapons he simply could never have imagined, much less had been given names for, tore through mechs like they were paper. The sound of it all was insane.

The worst part was the attacking force, the Decepticons, were loving it.

Splattered in energon not their own, optics bright with battle lust, the Decepticons laid waste to everything before them. None of the defending forces were equipped for what they faced.

It it weren’t for Optimus, Ratchet would have been throwing himself into the thick of it to lend aid to the fallen. He had to be bodily carried at one point as they hurried across a corner of the battle field, all but unseen.

Ratchet was Optimus’ key. His presence opened every door they came across in the Spires of Light, the heart of Iacon.

At first the corridors were quiet, the battle a muted hush beyond the thick walls, but that gradually changed. There was fighting inside as well. Optimus was forced to take down two mechs that stood in their way. He was clumsy with the first one, leaving the Decepticon a crumpled, but alive, wreck. A wreck Ratchet had to be carried away from. The second allowed the prime to better find his stride. Ratchet watched in numb horror as the kindest spark he’d ever known disabled the Decepticon in deft twists of frame, leaving him to shout slurs helplessly in their wake.

“..How are you doing this?” Ratchet found himself stammering as he hurried after the other. Optimus had a firm hold of his hand and wouldn’t let go.

“The Matrix. How hush. We are close.” Somewhere during all of it Optimus’ face was covered in a mask, but his words weren’t unkind. Merely distracted.

When they reached the last door, Optimus stopped before it could be triggered, and stopped the medic as well. “Hide yourself.” That was an order. Optics bore down into him. Ratchet found himself nodding dumbly.

Stepping forward just enough that he triggered the door, he also kept himself out of sight of it. The door opened on the death of Sentinal Prime.

The room beyond lay in tatters. It had seen the deaths of two primes in as many months. Megatron stood over the dead gray body of a mech Ratchet realized he knew. A swaggering, cruel braggart with delusions of grandeur. He couldn’t even feel guilt in approving of that death. But that thought was quickly swept aside as the spark bond swelled to life and his gaze was drawn elsewhere. Even as he desperately clamped down on his end, he was captivated. Megatron had changed out of the gladiator plating and returned to something closer to his original appearance. Gleaming white with glossy black and accents of red, he now had an absolutely huge fusion canon on his right arm.

Megatron was feeling disappointment as he let the dull gray body slump to the floor. There had been something to the fight with Zeta that was lacking here. He’d tried the em field stab only to have it fail to work. What had been different between these two primes? But a voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Megatron.” Optimus strode through that door, out into the battered room to stand framed by cracked and tilting columns.

Megatron straightened and turned to the other. He didn’t bother to hide his surprise, nor the laugh that followed, “Orion?” Absolutely the last mech he had expected to see.

Their fields crackled against one another with emotions Ratchet could barely grasp. The mixture was thick with pride and anger and feelings of betrayal. What had happened between these two? Where had that desperation over saving Megatron, and the love Orion felt gone?

“Stop this.” Optimus asked as he moved closer. “Call off your forces. No more innocents need to die.”

Ratchet reeled under the sheer force of emotion surging through the bond. Through the fields that filled the room. It took everything he had to hide himself from it. Hunched against the wall at the door panel, hand over his spark. Disgust. Pure disgust surged through the link and he denied it.

“There are no innocents here, Orion.” Megatron coldly told the mech that had once been a dear friend. “This festering spire allows for none.” He grandly swept an arm as if to encompass it all. “I will tear it down. Cleanse it. Purge this whole planet of the like.”

“Please, Megatron.” Optimus pleaded as he moved forward. They began to circle one another. “Do not make me stop you.”

Ratchet slipped into the room as Megatron barked a laugh. “You?!” The mockery in his tone was thick. “And I thought this one was delusional.” Megatron slide a ped beneath Sentinal’s body and flung it at Optimus.

Optimus brushed the flung body aside without effort, but both stopped when the door swished closed. Huddled behind a pillar, Ratchet could feel both sets of optics searching. Even as Sentinal’s body crashed into some rubble and flopped against a wall. Ratchet clamped a hand over his mouth as he watched the empty optics come to rest. He then kept himself very, very still. His field pulsed out that he wasn’t there. No one was there. It worked.

“Megatron.” Optimus tried once more.

“Stop me.” Megatron purred, engine rumbling. His field filled the room like a blanket of battle lust. The challenge in it was clear.

Only Optimus was immune to it. Ratchet rocked with their clash. Megatron had found Zeta a challenge, but this time he was fighting neither ancient prime, nor pretender. He was facing a young prime, at his full strength.

To Ratchet it was horrifying. And utterly, all encompassing – beautiful. The strength of the two, the grace, and the sheer resolve was too much for him. Fields fought as well, an unseen, but electrically felt battle. It was like watching two supernatural beings in a terrifying dance of destruction. And he, Ratchet, a tiny, fragile mortal.

All to soon Ratchet realized that neither was getting the upper hand. Optimus’ inexperience was showing. He was learning with terrifying speed, but Megatron had been doing this since he was a youngling. 

The medic had never struck another with true intent to harm. He had never sought to kill before Zeta, but now he didn’t hesitate. His prime needed him. Choosing between Optimus and the mech he was bonded to was easy. Orion couldn’t do this alone. Rushing to the body of Sentinal, Ratchet wrenched off one of the fake prime’s ornamental spikes. He couldn’t kill Megatron, but he could help Optimus.

They were grappling like Megatron and Zeta had, denta bared as they growled. Fields rolled and boiled against one another. Megatron was trying to shift Optimus’ balance to gain the upper hand, and neither paid any mind to the white and red form that crept up. Ratchet’s field swirled around him, carefully controlled.. Not here.. Nothing to notice.. It gave him the chance he needed to drive the spike into Megatron’s knee and twist. He was a medic. The best Cybertron had seen in millennia, and he knew exactly where to strike. He was too caught up in it all to feel the twinge of ache from his own knee in response.

It earned him a howl of pain, and an elbow to the pauldron so fast he could barely see it. Thankfully it wasn’t to the head. His panels crumpled as he was thrown across the entirety of the room to impact the wall. His optics showed him only stars, not letting him see the errors screaming across his hud, and a little voice inside was telling him how slagging stupid he was, just before everything went black.

 

 

Ratchet came to being carried. His face was mushed up against cracked windshield, and the first thought he had was that he hoped he wasn’t drooling lubricant on it. Everything hurt. Errors flashed insistently at the corers of his vision. Yet the gentle rolling steps of the mech that held him was almost like being rocked. Ratchet could hear voices, feel the lovely rumble of the mech that held him through panels and windshield, but none of the words made sense.

Voices were confused, some turning angry, em fields echoed it all, and Ratchet forced his optics fully online. They had to cycle more than once to achieve focus. Part of his own mind told him that he likely had a concussion. Even helpfully supplied further details. He couldn’t stop himself from muttering out those details.

Yep, windshield. That’s what he could see. It was going to need to be replaced. Nothing for it. Probably the frame too.

“Ratchet?”

The name pulled him back to himself. The concern in another field woke him up fully. But all he could do was moan a protest. Slag, did everything, utterly everything, have to hurt?

He felt himself being laid carefully down on a berth, and looking up at Optimus. Two other mechs were near if by em fields alone. Another head appeared over him, this one dark with a blue visor. Wait, he knew that face.

“Jazz.”

The mech grinned at him, field not showing pleasure at all. He was worried. Even scared, if hiding it well. Few others could have told his true emotions. He looked up at Optimus, visor shifting hues to something darker. “What happened?! He’s a mess. Yer a mess!”

Optimus didn’t answer and instead looked to someone Ratchet couldn’t see. “Mirage, would you contact your personal medic? He requires care.”

The royal mech shifted stance, hand to one hip, and the other motioning to the berth, “He IS my personal medic.” Mirage was a slender, blue mech, designed for racing. He had a sharp mind, but a gentle spark.

That had Optimus grimacing. He hadn’t known the details of Ratchet’s professional life. “..Is there anyone we can contact?” Slowly he sank down to the edge of the berth, and put a hand on the medic’s hood.

“Frag you all.” Ratchet muttered. “I’m not dying. M’self repair sys..” He forced himself to speak clearly with a reset to the speech center of his processor. “I’ve some minor cranial damage due to blunt force, deceleration trauma. My self repair systems will handle it. The shoulder.. that’s going to need repair, but isn’t fatal.” A shoulder he grimaced with as he shifted to see how bad. Yep, bad. Not having any armor, Megatron’s blow had not only crumpled the paneling badly, but fully warped the mechanics beneath. Hitting the wall hadn’t done Ratchet any favors either.

Jazz found himself smiling more honestly this time, “Hey, Docbot.”

“I hate docbot.” Was growled. Ratchet kept his field in super close. He could barely even feel the others being there for it.

Mirage smirked, “At least we know he’s in there.”

This didn’t derail Jazz however and he firmly gave Optimus a poke. The large mech was in need of a medic as much as Ratchet was. “What happened? Fess up.”

Ratchet wanted to know too, as he’d missed the end of the fight. Optimus actually looked sheepish. It was adorable. Jazz prodded again. Harder. Mirage chuckled. While Orion had been the one to meet Jazz originally, it was through Ratchet that Jazz and Mirage met. The two were rather inseparable now. The street rat and the royal. But oh how far that street rat had come once pulled from Polyhex. If Ratchet didn’t know better he’d have sworn Jazz was an alpha spark. He was just that good at everything. 

Optimus finally vented. “After Zeta had been murdered I was called into the library by Alpha Trion. He.. upgraded me, gave me the matrix, and I became prime.” How he could make something so extraordinary sound so simple, Ratchet didn’t know. “I had barely rebooted when I learned of the battle at the spires. Of Sentinal fighting Megatron. Yet I knew I could not gain entry by myself. Not even with the matrix. So I fetched Ratchet.”

That made sense to the pair of young mechs. As a high ranking medical official, Ratchet had access to all but the most private of senator accommodations, and the holy sites. “And?” Mirage prompted, motioning a hand for the prime to continue.

“We arrived too late. Sentinal was dead, and I fought with Megatron.” There was a weight to the words, but the younger pair didn’t say anything. They waited. Optimus looked away. Lips pursed to form a line, if briefly. “I was not prepared.” So many things were left unsaid there. The prime shifted his plating, ignoring the ache and pain, then added, “Ratchet came from no where to stab Megatron in the knee. I have no idea with what. He gave me the opening I needed. And he paid the price for it.”

“Way to go, Docbot!”

“I hate you.” Ratchet sighed for the raised voice, only making Jazz grin at him again. This time with true pleasure.

“Story.” Mirage prompted.

Optimus made a face before schooling his features. “With Megatron’s defeat the rest of his.. horde retreated. I could not stop them from taking Megatron. It left the remaining enforcers to attempt to arrest me.”

Jazz wasn’t a bit surprised. Enforcers liked to arrest everyone no questions asked, and sort the mess out later. “Ya let them?”

Optimus shook his helm to signify no. “I.. disabled a few, took Ratchet, and ran.” He looked sheepish again.

Ratchet could only laugh. Which hurt down to his protoform, but that didn’t stop him from doing so. Optimus gave him a disapproving, and almost hurt, look. That only made him laugh more.

Mirage sighed, “At least you came here. The enforcers won’t try for you here.” Meaning Mirage’s habitat. The royal had a huge spread in an elite spire. His elite status protected them from a great deal. “But that still leaves us with no medic to call. Ratchet’s been our medic long before he pulled me from my carrier.”

Jazz was looking thoughtful. Which always meant trouble. “I know a mech..”

Ratchet said nothing, mind hazy with pain.


	5. Chapter 5

The years that followed were dizzying. While Megatron had been defeated after the death of Sentinal Prime, that had hardly stopped him long. Optimus had much on his hands. To convince every one he was a true prime, to organize a group that was so corrupt it had to be stripped down and rebuilt completely, and to play peacemaker among the remaining, terrified, senators. It was the Autobots who were corrupt. The whole system was. Finally Prime grew weary of all the infighting among the Autobot command, and stripped everyone of power – cast them out. He began filling the command rolls with mechs he trusted. Mechs who would actually work together and do their jobs.

And thus Caduceus was forgotten and Ratchet became chief medical officer of the Autobots. Jazz and Mirage were of course there. Others soon joined as well, filtering in through circumstance and chance, each proving themselves capable and loyal. Ironhide was one of the few Autobots who survived the original purge. Prowl was literally pulled from the ashes of his home city-state of Praxis. Red Alert brought in by other friends, and Blaster kind of snatched up by Jazz before anyone else could get a claw in. Others followed. Some died. 

Many died. Cybertron died. Ratchet’s world became the Autobots. His owner had been murdered by the Decepticons somewhere along the line, but he didn’t know where. Probably during a huge attack on Iacon. Didn’t care really. He was an Autobot now. A new kind of slavery perhaps, but one he had chosen for himself. That made every difference. That pampered life in the spires was gone, along with all the slave coding, and he didn’t want it back.

He’d been altered over the years since the war began. Armor plating, and medical mods enough he stopped trying to count them all. He was nearly a medical bay all on his own. It left him bulky, stocky, and he was entirely fine with that. Especially since that coupled with the changes his owner had made to his frame meant that he wasn’t recognizable as the mech Megatron first knew.

Ironhide, and others, had even taught him to fight. For all he seldom had to. Like all his other lessons, the ones he knew were important, the medic learned quickly. Not that he was all that good at it to be honest, not having the spark for it, not like the front liners of the team, but it was enough. That, along with the strong bonds he’d forged with his fellows, was what kept him alive.

The other bond?

 

 

~ Online! Online, slag you! ~

He snapped aware, his whole form a twisted combination of too hot and too cold.

Below him, for there was only what was below, the view was breathtaking. A binary star in tiny blue, and immense red, lay spun together in strands of explosive color. Delicate filaments of energy flowed between the two like an umbilical between mother and infant. A part of him wondered at his internal imagery. Where had that come from?

He was in freefall. Caught between two immense gravity wells in what amounts to the sweet spot. Somehow perched in relative safety at the edge of oblivion. Heat bleed started to skim the edges of his plating. It was utterly silent.

Systems were beginning to feed him errors through his hud, but the pain was a distant thing. The lack of one leg would be troublesome later. He wasn’t leaking energon, lubricants, nor hydrollics, so his self repair systems had been at work. When he couldn’t see the missing limb anywhere, he abandoned thought of it.

For now he craned his helm around to see the spread of debris behind him. The space bridge. There was little left of it now. Nor was there much of the cruiser that had been going through it. The bodies of his Decepticons were beginning to distort between gravitational forces, the heat of the star, and the cold of space.

Somehow his fusion canon had survived. He turned it now to fire. Thrust made for movement in space. The pull of the star was intense, but he was determined. It wouldn’t be enough to reach the remains of the cruiser, if only due to lack of energon, but he could reach something with enough thrust. Starscream.

The seeker was offline, but had taken minimal damage. He didn’t question how he knew exactly what was wrong. As he made contact with the smaller form they bumped and then rolled gently – a slow dance in endless freefall. He gripped a hand to the other’s hip flare.

There was damage to Starscream’s transformation cog. He could see it through a wound in the seeker’s back. It wasn’t bad no matter the energon mess floating about, and would function if he could align the gears. Black fingers slid into that wound, and forced the upper half of the cog to turn. He could feel it grind beneath his touch.

Starscream woke for the pain, shrieking his agony in complete silence to the void. His field fluctuated violently only for the bigger mech to mold it down with firm control. Pushing the pain, and the fear, away.

<< Focus, damn you. >>

The voice was cold, hard, and brought Starscream back to himself. He knew the touch of the hands on him, and looked back. What he saw disturbed him for reasons he couldn’t name.

Megatron’s red optics were exceptionally bright. Yet at their core were blazing pricks of sky blue.

 

 

The other bond.. well, that was his secret. His shame. It did no one any good at all really. Closed down, and dimmed with distance, Ratchet felt nothing through it. He wanted nothing through it. Strong bonds not only shared emotions, but thoughts. The last thing he wanted to do was give Megatron Autobot secrets.

The dreams had not stopped. He tried, oh how he tried, but how do you stop your own dreams? They gave him surreal glimpses of what was going on with Megatron, but he never told anyone. The instances never were of importance to the Autobots, and never occurred during battle. How did Ratchet explain any of this? So he didn’t try. 

The problem was that he loved that feeling, the fusion, and Megatron was catching on. That was one entirely too crafty. The fusion was always intense, immensely gratifying for them both.

But Ratchet, in his own way, was crafty too. He learned how to control his end of the bond just as he had learned to control his em field. While he couldn’t stop the dreams from occurring, he could make sure Megatron leaned nothing of him.

He also shut the bond down as much as he possibly could, for he was unable to break it. Sure had tried over the years, and every attempt failed.

Distance was very important. Ratchet stayed as far away from Megatron as he possibly could. The dreams seemed to happen only when they were great distances apart. He didn’t know why. Ratchet knew he was lucky in that he hadn’t been caught in a fusion while online – awake. He did wonder what would happen though. Would he have a seizure? Simply stop moving? Repeat all Megatron’s actions? There was no way to know until it happened.

And those times he couldn’t get distance? He made himself as small, as unimportant seeming, and as invisible as he would without being Mirage. While his field tricks would never work twice when it came to sneaking up on Megatron to attack, which he wisely never tried, it sure helped in hiding. In battle, distractions everywhere, he used that field control to slip past the enemy. To slip away. Pulsing out a soft ‘Not here’ ‘Nothing worth paying attention to’. He was a ghost on the battlefield that managed repairs on the fallen.

As time passed that control, and some luck, meant he was one of the few medics to even survive what became a very, very long war.

 

 

And then they went to Earth following the Decepticon warship, the Nemesis. Where the Decepticons acquired it, or built it, no one knew. They’d disappeared for a few years, only to return with a vengeance.

There had been a conflict, both ships damaged. The planet’s gravity pulled both down.

Ratchet had offlined during the crash itself, but something was niggling at his processors. Like he was really far away and close all at the same time. Hovering just on the edge of wakefulness. Floating. He couldn’t quite tell who or what he was. It was dark. Something creaked off in the distance, the sound strange. Distorted. It set off a motion of sorts, and his helm bumped gently against the ceiling.

With that tiny jolt the medic snapped aware. Lights were gleaming down onto his grimacing face, and it was not a bit wet anywhere. ..What?

He was surrounded by mechs. A strange kind of tetris pile against a wall in a culdesac kind of end to the hallway. There was a leg over his hood and Ironhide was cradling him firmly close. No wonder he wasn’t feeling worse. Ratchet didn’t try to escape that hold as hands searched out the old warrior beneath him, scanners doing their work. Offline, some minor dents and dings, but nothing major. Ironhide had done far more on far worse. The mech below was cool to the touch. A sign he’d been in stasis a long while. That nagged at Ratchet for some reason.

Ratchet then checked the mech above him. Sidewipe was nearing wakefulness, which Ratchet helped push him towards with a little jolt of energy from a medical mod.

The young mech jumped, engine racing, “Not my fault, Prowl!” He protested as he came online.

Ratchet grunted, “Stop day dreaming about Prowl and get off me.”

“I’m not…! Slag, what happened?” Sideswipe forced himself to sit up, but at least swung his leg off the medic. The area was actually tilted, showing that the Ark was certainly not on an even level.

“Don’t know.” Ratchet gave as he wriggled himself in an effort to turn around. Ironhide was rather an unmovable object when he wanted to be, and his hold was possessive. Didn’t help they’d been friends with benefits for a long time. The warrior had caught him to protect him, and that drive was still going on even while in stasis. Ratchet wormed fingers in between red plating and found a jack. “Take a look around, Sideswipe.” Ratchet ordered. “I’ll get ‘Hide up.”

The young mech nodded and scooted back before finding his peds. The angle of the floor wasn’t terrible, and thankfully floor was still down instead of some impossible angle. Sideswipe climbed up the shallow incline. “We’re right outside medical.” He called back. “I can see First Aid.” 

When the warrior headed that way without being told, Ratchet didn’t bother to tell him to do something. He instead jacked himself into Ironhide and booted the older mech up. “Come on, you old scrap.. Online.”

He was rewarded by blue optics warming to life. Ironhide took a second, optics cycling, and then said, “Hey, sweet spark. Musta been some party. I don’t remember slag.”

Ratchet knew he was okay then and started pushing at the other. “Let me up.” Voices drifted down the hall from where Sideswipe was getting others online. As Ironhide let him go, he tried to ping anyone through comm lines. There was a lot of quiet until those around him began doing the same. “Ironhide, find Prime.” He steadied himself against the wall a moment before climbing up. Thankfully the floors were made not to be slick on metal peds. Ironhide was on his heels in a moment. 

They crested the top of the incline and both grimaced. The break in the floor was tiny but it meant bad things for their ship because the rest of the level was smooth and flat. A whole section of ship had simply broken and dropped, like the joint after bending a length of metal. Ironhide didn’t linger however. His peds sounding his long strides, the mech raced off to do as directed. 

Ratchet checked in on medical, finding the mechs there working to help others. He moved on. Far more slowly trailing behind Ironhide, the medic checked rooms and woke mechs as he found them.

The damage to both ark and mechs grew worse as he moved forward. More and more he left those he found offline due to severe damage. Wouldn’t do to wake them and not be able to repair them just yet. The hardest to find was the young mech he found dead and gray, torso crushed under debris. Ratchet prayed that the ending had been quick. As he sadly shuttered the dark optics, he realized he didn’t even know the mech’s designation. The young one had only just joined the crew. This was his first mission. 

When Ratchet finally reached the bridge it was the worst off. All the view ports were ruined, and dark. Monitors offline. Red Alert was literally folded into his control panel, in emergency stasis. Blaster was moving slowly, hurting, but he was already trying to get some other panels working. Prowl’s wings were a crumpled mess of agony, an arm held close to his side, but he was helping Blaster as best he was able. Ironhide was booting Optimus. Leaning over the pair, he touched Ironhide’s pauldron, “Optimus?”

The Prime motioned a hand as he returned to himself, “See to Red Alert.” A cursory examination showed that Optimus wasn’t in any large danger so Ratchet nodded and moved away.

Ratchet found a jack and immediately plugged in, sending his medical codes ahead so that he wouldn’t be automatically kicked out. Red Alert was as paranoid as they came. Diagnostics showed him a great many issues, but on the whole the mech was stable. “I need some help here.” He told the room in general. It immediately got him Ironhide and Optimus at his back. He looked to the two behind him, hand to Red Alert’s helm. “He’s pinned, but in such a way that it may be pinching off snapped fuel lines. So I have to be in the thick of it as you two pry him out..”

Optimus nearly nodded and they worked together, figuring out their positions. With Ratchet awkwardly in the middle, the two warriors cracked the control panel and pulled the two sections apart. The strength required for this was impressive. While a fuel line was ruptured, the medic quickly clamped it off. “Alright, he’s stable.” Ironhide helped him up. “But he needs more medical care than I can give him here.”

Optimus nodded, “How do our numbers fair?”

Ratchet looked up, knowing the question cost the prime. His people were never numbers. “One casualty.” It wouldn’t do to lie. “The mechling. I.. don’t even know his designation.”

No one spoke a time after that, and Optimus ran a hand over his features. Prowl and Blaster watched them without speaking. “Crestfire. His designation was Crestfire. Wounded?”

The medic shrugged, “Everyone. The entire crew, excepting for myself. Most walking wounded. Some I dropped into stasis. Medical’s a mess.”

Blaster looked back again from where he’d gotten something working. “Prime, we got a problem.”

Ratchet said, voice dripping sarcasm, “Just one? Oh good, I was getting worried.” Optimus gave him a sharp look, but the medic merely gave a saucy sway of hips and motioned a hand. He was in no mood to play nice.

Optimus decided not to acknowledge it further. “Report.”

Blaster fought a smirk thanks to the medic and admitted, “Our down time.. Teletran’s chronometer is given’ me readin’s of nearly one hundred thousand stellar cycles.”

Stunned silence reigned for a time before Optimus forced himself to move over. “And you are sure of this?” He leaned over to see the screens Blaster was working on.

The communications specialist nodded, “Yeah. Double an’ triple checked even.” Prowl nodded too, but still remained silent. There was a pinched look to his normally aristocratic features.

One hundred thousand.. Ratchet frowned and rubbed his face. There were too many other things he needed to worry about right now. “I’m going back to medical..” Optimus nodded to him as he left the bridge.

As Ratchet began organizing his tiny team, and had sent online mechs to start bringing down those in stasis, the rest of command was finding out the current condition of the Ark. It wasn’t good. The ship was damaged beyond repair, and not only that, but it had most of a mountain on top of it. Far as anyone could tell, the vessel had slid across the landscape during the crash, then hit a mountain full force, causing the peak to fall over it. They were buried.

 

 

Much later Ratchet laid himself out on a berth and let himself sink into recharge. He would have preferred to ignore the need, as he’d done countless times before, but Optimus put his ped down. He was banned from medical for a few hours. There was to much to do! Yet at the same time pushing hard wouldn’t help, so there he was, trying to recharge.

Ratchet needed it, as well as some decent defrag cycles, but he wouldn’t be getting much rest.

As soon as his mind wound down it was pulled into a dream. Almost a vision.

The liquid was back. Optics cycled as his mind hazily came online. Something was pushing him to wake. It was important! Gradually he became aware of his surroundings. He was inside the control room, and was.. floating. His helm bounced against the ceiling with the ebb and flow of the water. He raised a hand to buffer himself. There was a force on him that was decidedly uncomfortable, pressing in from all sides. The liquid. A scan showed it to be water heavy with impurities and sodium. The pain was unimportant. That didn’t explain his float, nor the still forms of other Decepticons near at hand, also floating. A stray thought wondered why he’d scanned anything at all. Nonsense. How did he know his kind were too dense to float?

A deep sound reverberated around him, ominous and eerie. The Nemesis was in deep water and struggling with the strain. While the warship had been built to withstand a great deal of punishment, no space ship was designed to handle being submerged. Much less for as long as it had been. You had to build in far different ways to protect against water pressure. Pointless for a space fairing vessel. It was only testament to the fine craftsmanship of the Decepticons that the ship had retained its integrity.

Pushing from the ceiling, he drove and caught one of the control panels. Not having the need to breathe, he focused on other necessities. There was still power here, but the monitor refused to respond to the touch of his fingers. He’d never repaired anything like this, and yet.. and yet he knew what to do. A smile spread. The fusion was back. It had been a long time since he’d felt the touch of the other – some unknown mech who was somehow always there in his spark during his times of need. It granted him a power he craved to have all the time.

Now it showed him important skills, and he dug fingers into a panel, wrenching it free. The crumpled bit of metal floated off somewhere, immediately forgotten. The components were showing signs of high strain. The water pressure had been pressing in and snapping critical lines. He forced some back into shape, recreating the circuits, unfamiliar with the specific designs of the Nemesis, but knowing enough to make it work. The monitors above warmed to life and he wasted no time. Pulling up, holding himself firm with one hand, he worked the controls with the other.

Battered from combat, crash, and water pressure, the Nemesis whined protest as engines attempted to initialize. Ah, the gravity was still working, if incorrectly. That’s why he’d been floating. Power was cut to gravity, as well as all other non essential systems. With the increase in power, the engines began their lift. All around him bodies and debris slowly sank down. They were ignored as he coaxed the ship from the ocean floor. It screamed in pain, heavy panels indenting in the process, but prodigiously it rose above the level of the water. He too sank, still holding himself, until his peds touched down.

Ah yes, the water. He caressed the bright mind he was bound to, and found the controls for the hatches. Inside the Nemesis every door that could open, did. Yet the outside hatches opened only partially. Just enough to let the water spring free, but not wide enough to allow the Decepticons to be flushed. For long, long moments he held himself firm, but then the water level began to drop. He lifted his helm above it when he could, giving himself a shake.

A hard pull from the sudden rush of water had him gripping into the control panel, digging furrows there. He watched as the others were swept to and out the door. Yes, that was amusing, wasn’t it?

Straightening, standing in shallow water, he opened all his vents and intakes and sprouted water – flushing his system. He’d be days drying without the proper means. Not that this mattered. With the Nemesis above the water, hovering steadily for the time being, it was time to wake someone who actually knew how to make repairs.

He found Soundwave caught at a junction of corridors and knelt down. Finding a medical jack at the mech’s hip he plugged himself in. It was surreal, and entirely satisfying at the same time, in that he knew exactly what to do to bring the other back online.

The first two times the fusion occurred he’d no idea it was an outside force. Only that when things got bad, something was there to help. Someone. They became one - glorious, powerful, and all to deadly. When they killed Zeta he was sure he’d done it alone. The control of em field was electrifying! The problem came in that after Zeta he couldn’t repeat it. The second time he felt himself entirely too lucky. But the third? When the two sparks merged as he fought some unknown creature to save his Decepticons, on some unnamed world they were searching for energon on.. then he knew. He was bound to another. A spark bond. A bond he couldn’t at all remember gaining. That should have angered him. He hadn’t consented. It wasn’t something he had brought about. And yet the bond had brought him only good. The bond would became another tool.

A tool he planned to possess and control fully.

Ratchet found himself trembling on his berth, yet again. Very awake. No.. no… nononono! It’d been so long! He’d worked so hard to crimp the bond! Roughing rubbing at his face, he wished he could flush the memories as easily as they had the water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	6. Chapter 6

During the weeks that followed he was subdued and no one could figure out why. Ratchet appreciated their concern, but he kept them at arms length just the same. That he was busy helped. There was always way to much to do for his medical team. 

One by one they managed to repair the Autobot crew. The fabrication of critical parts was taking forever. It left some mechs trapped in medical. 

As the Autobots dug themselves an exit from the Ark, mechs were repaired by order of need, not combat ability. It meant Ratchet had a medical bay filled with insanely bored adrenaline junkies. Mechs desperate to get away from the grumpy chief medical officer with the sharp tongue, and even sharper field.

“SHUT IT!” He bellowed as a round of new protests sounded for Mirage getting repaired ahead of them. Ratchet’s field filled the room, touching only the mechs he wanted to affect.

Jazz grinned into the sudden quiet of the medical bay. Right now the team needed sneaky mechs out in the field, not front line warriors. There was a world to explore! “Yer gonna get yer turn.” He promised, flickering a wink of visor at the lot as he ambled out with Mirage.

Ratchet watched the two go, hands on hip flares. He didn’t even look over as he smacked Cliffjumper for opening his mouth. The little mech wisely shut that mouth. Someone off a ways snickered for it. Which immediately started another shouting match. Ratchet rubbed at his nasal ridge and vented. Not for the first time he wished Primus would strike him dead on the spot.

They’d repaired quite a lot of the ark during their time marooned here. Security was at least working, and power fully restored, but the main problem was that they weren’t alone on this tiny world. One hundred thousand years ago it had appeared uninhabited, but that had changed while they were offline. The Humans, as they called themselves, spanned the globe and were rapidly developing. The only saving grace for his sanity had been their internet. The berth bound warriors were as amused by the cat videos as the humans. He didn’t quite know what Minecraft was, but that it kept the twins enthralled was all he needed to know. Ratchet was certainly curious, but as of yet he’d little time to explore.

Earth was alive with chatter, on various signal lengths. It helped distract the crew from their troubles. And in finding that the Nemesis was out there. Blaster had stumbled over some grainy cell phone footage not long ago. The Decepticon warship was keeping a very low profile, but the humans had noticed it. The ark was starting to gear up because of that. Ratchet was under pressure to get the warriors back on their peds. Sadly Wheeljack was fabricating parts as quickly as he could, which never could be all that fast.

He was engrossed in a datapad one evening, turning off the lights to his office, when he turned and all but jumped out of his own frame. Ratchet had been keeping his own field so close he hadn’t noticed Ironhide move right up to him. The weapons master had one hand leaned against the wall, totally blocking the doorway. He reached out to grab a hold of Ratchet before he could get out of arms reach. With firm intent he pulled the medic closer.

A smile made it’s way known as it curled up over Ratchet’s lips all in spite of himself. He didn’t fight the hold, nor the lovely kiss that followed. It’d been weeks since either could even talk to the other.

Cliffjumper asked with a grin, “Did you bring enough for everybody?”

Both older mechs ignored him. They were off duty. While fraternizing had been a strict nono early days in the war, that kind of went out the window as numbers plummeted. There wasn’t anyone who wasn’t outside of the Aubobots to find release with. Bowing to the inevitable, Optimus had changed the rule to off duty hours only. While some officers had expected chaos, Ultra Magnus raising a stink about it, the companionship had brought the team closer together. Created a few new problems sure, but on the whole it worked.

Ironhide firmly took his arm and pulled Ratchet from medical. The medic gave Cliffjumper a rude gesture as farewell. This only made the small mech laugh. But out in the hall, Ratchet tucked his datapad into subspace and asked, “What’s this about?” It was quite unlike Ironhide.

Not that Ironhide let go as they walked to the corridor of habitats for the command crew. It was Ratchet’s quarters they went to. Considering how rarely he spent time here, he didn’t bother to decorate it. The pictures he so once loved had been lost long ago. “Hide..” Ratchet protested quietly, wanting his question answered. The other hadn’t said a word the whole walk here.

With the door firmly closed Ironhide folded his arms over his hood. “I know I ain’t had time t’ask, but what’s eating you?” Their days had been filled with the endless list of things that needed doing after the crash.

Ratchet knew his on and off again lover too well to know he could avoid answering. Once Ironhide bit down into something he just didn’t let go. Sinking down to his berth, the medic vented heavily. But just how did he explain without explaining? “This.. whole marooned situation has me off kilter. I haven’t been recharging well.” Which was totally true. He was having trouble. “Everyone getting close feels like rubbing a raw mesh.” He shrugged, really not knowing anything better to say. How could he explain he was bonded to Megatron and things were changing? “I’m so tired.”

Ironhide was trying to read the undercurrents here. The medic hid too many things, and to damn well. But for tonight it seems he was being honest. Perhaps not completely, but it was enough. Mechs liked to lie to themselves more than anyone else most times, and that’s what he chalked it up to. “Do I?” Asked bluntly as he lowered his arms and approached. 

Fields bristled at one another, Ratchet unhappy and Ironhide unhappy Ratchet was unhappy. It didn’t take long to calm down however, and the medic stroked the warrior’s hand. Ratchet gave in and let the other’s field give him comfort. There was a little tug. “Make me feel something better?” 

“Stop trying to distract me.” Ironhide huffed at the other.

“Not when I’m this good at it.” Ratchet smirked, rising up off the berth to seek a kiss.

Ironhide decided to let the medic have his way. Bending down, meeting that kiss, the warrior pushed Ratchet back to the berth even as he climbed over the other. Interfacing with Ratchet was always a slow build, taking effort on his part, but always worth it. Making Ratchet overload was the sweetest of highs. That em field in the throws of pleasure was addicting.

 

 

Wearily sinking into a chair, Ratchet watched Prowl across the meeting table. The table itself had taken heavy damage during the crash, and had been hastily made functional. There’d been no time, nor any energy, to repair it further, so it had remained a mess. Ratchet found it rather summed up the whole Autobot situation at the moment rather well. Broken and held together with some rebar and gumtack. 

Prowl was another matter entirely. The black and white mech gave him a polite nod, but then returned to the datapad he was working with. Held in both hands, thumbs working to type out glyphs. Ratchet had repaired his wings some time ago, and those panels now twitched slightly along with the enforcer’s thoughts. Prowl had spark installation error that made his em field work at slightly different frequencies than everyone else. Ratchet had made corrections, but it still left most unable to feel his em field, thus believing him to be more drone than mech. Prowl did little to quash such impressions. Outside of social interactions it did him little harm. The tacnet inside of him was another matter.

“Is everything alright?” Prowl asked quietly, not looking up. He had a pleasant tennor, almost never raising his voice. Even in battle.

Ratchet chuckled, having lost himself in thought to where he was staring. “Sorry.” The apology came easily. “I’m tired and my processes are wandering.”

Wings lifted just a little as Prowl’s lips tugged at a corner. As close to a smile as Prowl got most times. He never stopped his typing. “Hypocrite that I am, you should recharge more.” Both of them were work-a-holics of the worst sort. As cold as Prowl appeared to most, he was in fact most caring. Showing it simply depended on whether or not the tactical net inside his helm felt the situation warranted emotion. Logic most often won, dimming emotions to almost nothing so he could focus.

“Got me there.” Ratchet admitted. Neither said more on that topic however as the rest of command filed into the room. Red Alert and Blaster were still on the control deck, leaving some seats open.

Jazz slid in next to Prowl. The two still trying to keep their relationship on the low down so they didn’t interact. Ratchet could never figure out why. Everyone important already knew. Or maybe just he knew. He forgot sometimes that he could feel Prowl in full when few others could. The Enforcer’s spark almost danced for Jazz being near, and yet no sign of it occurred physically. He gave nothing away.

Ironhide sat between Jazz and the prime. He’d brought his energon with him.

Optimus sank into his seat and let his long frame relax for the first time in a while. Here with his oldest friends, and most trusted advisers, he didn’t have to pretend he wasn’t exhausted. “What have you found?” Was asked of Prowl.

The enforcer straightened, somehow, from his already straight backed pose, and wings fanned before settling to a neutral position. There was a language to those wings, the Praxians using them for social interactions almost more than fields. Ratchet, one of the few in the Autobots who even knew the language, read unease there. Prowl was really good at controlling his expressions, but still gave hints away. “Megatron is searching for something. Exactly what I can’t say. Or perhaps I should say who.” The mech used his datapad to control the room’s large monitor. There was a map of the various Decepticon attacks that had been occurring recently.

Attacks that had been confusing to the Autobots. There was little rhyme nor reason. It had been throwing Prowl’s tacnet into fits. “These two are attacks on energon deposits, but the rest were literally nothing. There was no reason to attack there, excepting perhaps to draw us out. Megatron has been growing more erratic over the ages, but since Earth something has shifted. He attacks at random, with no true intent. Even the Decepticons are confused..” The mech laid out just how bad it was through footage he’d compiled from the others. During those attacks the Decepticon had been growing more and more puzzled. Often even hesitant to continue attacking. They loved to fight, but even they were questioning why. Prowl believed there was something going on with Megatron.

“Slagger’s going insane.” Ironhide shrugged. “We’ve all known that a long time.”

Prowl nodded, “That is a possibility.”

Optimus however, asked, “You said who.”

Again Prowl nodded. There was a brief hesitation that meant he was using comms with someone, but no one called him on it. Prowl did more than his fair share when it came to organizing and monitoring affairs in the ark. “A hunch?” He asked, shrugging both shoulder and wing. “The first two attacks were for energon. Yet after, as they became more random it became clear that he was looking for something. Megatron has always immediately sought out Optimus on the battle field, yet lately this has changed. The last five encounters Megatron has avoided prime in the beginning moments in order to get among the rest of us. He’ll toss a few of us around, making physical contact, then give his attention to Optimus. What is truly strange is that he’s purposely not killing anyone.”

Ratchet’s spark went cold. He’d been keeping his field in so tight that nothing was let slip. He hadn’t been on any of those missions. First Aid had gone as medical support with Ratchet so tied up in other things.

Optimus rubbed at his lower face, clearly out of sorts with it all. “Are there any signs of who, or why?”

“No, sir.”

Megatron knew his bonded was among the Autobots.

But if that were so, why was the link dead? Why wasn’t he pressing in and finding him the easy way?

 

 

The bond was suddenly painful. As he knelt down near Windcharger to stop the other’s bleeding, he struggled against it and tried to focus.

The blade took him in the upper back, right near the shoulder. The sudden shock, the agony, made him cry out. It was a poorly aimed strike, somehow missing anything vital. 

Ratchet’s field rolled with the pain. He craned back to see just who’d given him the blow, and was rewarded with knee to the face. The mech he’d been looking over called his name weakly as the medic went tumbling. Ignoring the badly wounded Windcharger, the Decepticon laughed and leaped up after his prey. It wasn’t often you got the Autobot’s chief medical officer away from his guard.

He’d switched out with First Aid for the mission to test out a theory. Avoiding Megatron he knew he could do. He’d never expected other Decepticons to be willing to search too. Nor find him. Damn it, he must have gotten distracted. He had to admit it’d been a rough few weeks.

Ratchet had barely settled to the hard ground when the Decepticon was on top of him, punching. It was suppose to be just another skirmish. Another Decepticon random attack, or energon grab. Somehow it’d turned into a full on battle. He’d just gotten everyone repaired too!

“Megatron will reward me for your carcass!” The Decepticon crowed.

Seeing stars, Ratchet could only lift one arm to try and protect his helm, but it wasn’t enough. The bond throbbed. His hud was filling with errors and warnings. Lots of insistent, flashing words he couldn’t even read at the edges of his vision.

The Decepticon paused as the Autobot’s optics cycled to their widest position. Was the medic going to go gray already? But instead of the light fading, there grew an ember at their middle. A red dot that widened to a raging blaze.

The medic’s arm shot up, fingers splayed into claws. Yet they made no physical contact. The Decepticon shrieked as something shredded his em field. It felt like claws dug in from the bottom and raked their way up like a hot knife through butter. The red hand closed and pulled down hard. It made the Decepticon jerk forward into the motion, gasping in agony, unable to speak. He came to hunch over Ratchet, trembling, red optics cycled wide in the same manner Ratchet’s had moments ago. The medic then wasted no time in ignoring his own pain to start digging fingers in between plating. He pulled every critical line the Decepticon had. Energon spurted, oils and lubricants joined the spray as he wrenched and twisted.

Windcharger, dazed with his own wounds, could only watch as the much larger Decepticon slumped forward onto the medic, his colors fading to a dull gray as he bled out.

Across the battlefield Optimus and Megatron were clashing. They’d been since this skirmish started. Optimus had denied Megatron a chance to search. So evenly matched were they that neither had any kind of advantage today. That is, until something strange occurred. Having split off briefly, Optimus was making Megatron jump back through a series of blaster shots. The Decepticon warlord had been moving easily no matter his injuries, almost smiling as his foe drove him. They’d been exchanging insults. Megatron had almost been flirting. But then the Decepticon had reeled back, like taking an injury to the shoulder. It wasn’t like him to show pain like that. His steps faltered, staggering. He roared, yet not for the pain, motioning a hand sharply upwards, fingers splayed into claws. Then, red optics dimming, Optimus’ blasts took him to the abdomen and chest. Megatron flipped, hit the ground hard, and rolled to a stop not far away.

“OPTIMUS!” The shout caught him in his surprise, jerking him back to the here and now. Optimus looked back across the battle field to his own mechs. Already Decepticon moral was faltering with their leader going down. “Ratchet’s missing!” The prime hesitated only briefly before turning from Megatron. Some things were more important. 

“What was his last known location?!”

No one noticed Soundwave pulling Megatron through a ground bridge until it was too late.

The rest of the Decepticons had literally been abandoned. Their captures were messy, chaotic, but only Thundercracker, carrying Hook, managed to get away. After much searching they found Ratchet beneath the body of a dead Decepticon. Almost buried in the earth and mud. He was covered in drying energon, and was in stasis. There were cables clenched in his hands. Ironhide had nearly thrown the Decepticon corpse a county mile and wouldn’t let anyone touch the medic he carried during their return to the ark.

 

 

Ratchet woke on a berth in medical. It wasn’t a position he was used to being in. He turned his aching helm to look beyond and found medical a place of chaos. Oh, right, he’d been wounded. The Decepticon hitting him in the face was distinctly memorable. Cycling his optics to force focus he realized the hulking blur to one side was Ironhide. He was arguing with someone. Angry. A beleaguered First Aid was off a ways trying to handle everything. Not only Autobot wounded, but somehow Decepticons too. Voices were everywhere, creating a painful din.

He wanted to shout down it all, but he lacked the strength. Everything hurt. All down his left side and his back. But he couldn’t see any injuries on his abdomen. Lifting his helm, he felt down his hood, middle, and to the hip using the sensors built into his hands. No damage.. but the error messages were giving all kinds of warnings about cut lines, integrity breaches. Apparently his fuel pump was missing. With a trembling, and filthy hand, Ratchet reached out and sought to pull a monitor to him. A scan from the berth would help.

It jostled Ironhide, who glanced back, and then turned. “No you don’t.” A firm hand caught his arm. “You’re gonna lay there and be good.”

“I’m fine.” Ratchet weakly struggled against the other’s hold. Never mind he wasn’t seeing clear yet on top of everything else. Everything was a blobbish blur. “..Scan.”

Ironhide held him firm and shouted, “First Aid! Get over here and shut this slagger down!”

The poor junior medic jumped at his shouted name, but at least didn’t come running. He finished soldering a line to prevent a bleed out, and then hurried over. Like he would on any other ornery patient, First Aid jacked in and used medical overrides to drop Ratchet into stasis. Ratchet protesting the whole time.

The second time Ratchet woke he was curled on his side, aching half of his back lifted to not touch anything. Must have rolled over after being put here. While on a berth, it wasn’t a medical one, he was still in medical. How strange. He recognized the quarantine room. It was blessedly quiet in here, the lighting dim, but not off. Squirming around he managed to wrap an arm around his chassis and feel around that area of his back. Someone had done a neat repair job. First Aid. Huffing through vents, Ratchet relaxed somewhat and didn’t move further. Someone had given him energon too. Why he was in quarantine he just didn’t know.

The laying there gave Ratchet time to think. The blows to his helm explained why he had the error messages of wounds he simply didn’t have, but not that surge of rage. That wasn’t like him at all. Angry yes, but not intent to kill. And he had most certainly killed. Ratchet was trying to analyze the feeling of someone helping when the door slid open to show Optimus. Optics cycled and the medic lifted his head. “Optimus?”

The Prime came in, pausing to raise the lighting a touch. “All is well, Ratchet.” He assured. When he moved across the room to the medic and fields touched, Ratchet was comforted. Optimus was tired, not having recharged, but his mood was calm.

“Why am I in quarantine?” Feeling an ancient in every joint, Ratchet still forced himself up.

“Easy..” Optimus tried to scold, quickly lending aid to the other. Together they sat the medic up, but Optimus refused to let him leave the berth. “Space considerations.” He told. “We have many wounded, and limited space. We wished you to have some privacy.”

Ratchet pushed at the other for that. To get Optimus out of his way. It was like trying to push a space ship by himself. Impossible. “Then I have to get to work.”

Optimus clearly disagreed, “Not yet. I must ask what occurred with you on the battle field.” That Ratchet was without his guard wasn’t all that unique. Optimus didn’t like it, but battles were chaotic and bad things happened. Ratchet normally had an uncanny ability to move unnoticed, but today had been different. That it made the prime wonder.

Ratchet could only shake his head. “I don’t know. I really don’t. The Con hit me before I even knew he was there.”

There was quiet a moment before, “That is unlike you.”

Ratchet rubbed at his face with rough fingers, the words turning over in his mind. “I don’t have an answer for you, Optimus.” He was wondering at it himself.

The Prime leaned on a hand, looking at the repair marks on the medic’s upper back, at the shoulder. The same spot where Megatron had reacted to.


	7. Chapter 7

The days that followed were noisy ones. Far too noisy. Still hurting, Ratchet put himself back to work because First Aid couldn’t handle it alone. Rallying his medical team, such as it was, he bullied through a great many repairs. Not only for the Autobots, but for the Decepticons too. The brig was over flowing to the point it was reluctantly decided to drop most of the Decepticons into medical stasis. For their sanity and that of their captors. No one liked doing it, but it saved on energon along with everything else.

Finally, when Ratchet had finally had to much, the medic escaped outside. Cybertronians were designed with alt forms and the code involved in them craved use. Ratchet really needed a drive. He hadn’t had one since long before the crash. Sure his coded imperatives were subdued due to his distant bond with Megatron, as it dampened a lot of things, but it didn’t stop them all together. Stepping out into the large storage bay that was now their front door foyer, the medic looked around. “Anyone mind wandering around at painfully slow speeds while I get a drive in?” Asking for company since he knew he shouldn’t go out alone. His alt mode was hardly a performance model. Everyone here would leave him in the dust, excepting perhaps Optimus.

Bluestreak hopped off a crate with a smile. His sensor wings all but fluttering. “I’ll go!” Not a bit surprisingly the mech just kept on talking. “I’ve been really wanting to get in a drive anyway. The trees are starting to turn colors..” Originally from Praxis, Bluestreak had been caught in the fighting that had utterly destroyed the capitol of his home city state. The Decepticon’s had over run it like a pride of starving cybercats. The civilians didn’t stand a chance. Trauma kept Bluestreak talking.

Thankfully Smokescreen, another rare, surviving Praxian, shook his cousin into silence. “Let’s go.” How the Autobots had managed three of them was still a mystery. Prowl was the third in the set.

The drive had been good, the Praxians taking pity on him and not leaving him in their dust. It felt good to get his wheels on some pavement, and he let himself relax into the drive. Which of course made it all the worse when the cousins pulled away, being playful, and the ground bridge opened up right in front of Ratchet.

He tried to stop, shifting to root mode with a running stagger. Unfortunately he had too much momentum and went tumbling through the spiraling gate. It hurt his pride more than anything. He ended up sprawled against a wall, dazed, looking up at Soundwave. Somewhere off in the immediate distance a ground bridge closed. The sounds of tires squealing and shouts were cut off.

His optics went huge as the Decepticon’s coils slid around him, holding him tightly. Ratchet protested with a gasp as he was lifted off the floor, “Here now!” There wasn’t a lot he could do, especially not when Soundwave pulled him close and slid a control collar around his throat. It immediately locked down his transformation ability, and denied him access to his subspace and mods.

The violent struggle that followed got Ratchet no where. Soundwave had nearly put him down at first, but Ratchet was a little angry. His ability to fight had been brief and now Ratchet found himself carried through the Nemesis in black tentacles. Wasn’t there some human kink about this? Where had he heard that? He was decidedly not aroused. 

Ratchet also found himself thinking as he was carried. The bond was a dull, quiet thing. It had been since he woke in medical, wounded. Was Megatron not on the Nemesis? He’d been trying hard not to think about it after the battle, but there it was. “Where are we going?” He asked, not for the first time, sounding bored. The medic craned his head around to try and see. The angle he was carried at made it hard to look at his surroundings.

Soundwave didn’t answer.

“Seriously.. I can walk you know. You haven’t turned my motor functions off.”

They arrived at a door, which slid open at the Decepticon’s approach.

“I have noticed it’s really quiet around here.” Maybe Ratchet wasn’t as bored as he tried to appear. “Where the slag is everyone?” Never mind he knew where the majority of the Decepticons were.

Soundwave carried him through that door and into another room.

The floor was just so interesting! It needed a cleaning too. Were those barnacles? “Look.. I can be a reasonable mech… Ack!” 

Spun around suddenly, Ratchet’s systems lurched and he felt the urge to purge. It wasn’t pleasant. Then, with a jolt, he was dumped onto his peds. The medic staggered and gripped the medical berth before him. On which lay Megatron. “Primus!” came out in a rush. Straightening slowly he found himself looking at the Decepticon commander. The bond didn’t even flicker. The faded gray of the normally white plating, and the huge holes in his torso told a very clear story. How hadn’t Ratchet felt this? It explained his own errors he realized. Those wounds that weren’t actually there. Perhaps that was what had caused him to black out beneath that Decepticon. 

Looking back quickly, still holding the berth, Ratchet found himself loomed over by Soundwave. Who said only one word, “Repair.”

“What?” Some days he wondered where his processors went and why he couldn’t keep thought and mouth separate. “You can’t be serious..”

The intense anger in the Decepticon’s field told him more than he ever wanted to know.

Ratchet put up his hands to plead peace. “Okay.. okay, you’re serious.” A shaky vent brought him to lower his hands and look around the room. The medical bay. Such as it was. There was only dismay in the medic. How did the Decepticons manage on so little? On another berth lay Hook, on life support as well.

A tentacle curled in ominously close but he pushed it away, sounding disgust. “Get that out of my face. I get it, okay? I’ll repair. But you’re going to have to ease the collar constraints. I can tell just by looking that I’m going to need my medical mods for this.” Ratchet gave the Decepticon a dirty look.

Soundwave tilted his head a moment, then attached a tentacle to the collar with a click. Ratchet found it disturbing to say the least, but he soon had control of his mods once more.

Ratchet rubbed at his throat when he was free of the cable. As Soundwave pulled back, Ratchet stared at the Decepticon commander. He was going to repair Megatron. “Slag.”

 

 

He had no idea how long it’d taken him, if only because he refused to look at his internal readouts. By the ache building behind his optics, the slight trembling of his hands, and the tick of his engine, Ratchet knew it’d been a very long time indeed since he started. Megatron had been in terrible shape. It had taken all his skill to piece the mech back together. Not just because Soundwave had threatened either. Ratchet did have a personal stake in this. Optimus would have asked him to anyway. As he laid a trembling hand on the now white plating of Megatron’s hood, he wondered if that quiet youngling was still in there somewhere.

Finding no answers to this, Ratchet looked to Hook’s still form and knew he didn’t have the strength. Soundwave had disappeared somewhere during the hours, leaving two drones to watch in his place. Nor had he been given any energon. Plating lifting in lowering in something akin to a sigh, the medic decided he had to rest. However, this tiny medical bay had no other berths. That left him two options.. ask the drones, or simply curl up and recharge. He so wasn’t curling up on Megatron for a nap.

Ratchet shook his head and simply crawled under the medical berth. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d caught some recharge in such a shadow. Helm pillowed on an arm, he let himself sink down.

So tired had he been that when someone’s field began moving against his own hours later, trying to tease him out, Ratchet didn’t fully wake. It had been a very long time since he’d let anyone touch him like that. He was far too muzzy to notice details. So as the field caressed, his own began to mold to it in reply. He so wanted to be touched that way again. To feel full arousal. It had been denied the medic a very long time.

Instead, he was roughly pulled out from under the medical berth by a hand cupped against his hood. 

Ratchet came out of recharge with a squawk to the bright lights of medical creating a shadow looming over him. A shadow complete with two smoldering coals in the darkness of it.

Megatron pulled him firmly over to pin him between ped and hand. The warlord was down on one knee, hunched over the medic. “All this time I have searched for you. All these years..” The smile made Ratchet’s spark feel cold. “And here you are, right under Prime’s thumb. The perfect hiding place.” Oh yes, Megatron knew Optimus’ chief medical officer when he saw him. 

Ratchet should have kept his mouth shut, but when had he ever. “Well..” His voice trembled in spite of his best efforts, “No one ever said you were observant.” He was sure he could have freed him from this hold if it had been anyone but Megatron. But it wasn’t.

Megatron’s ire jumped in his field, building towards rage. “I will have your strength.” He wasn’t a youngling anymore, and he’d learned many things over the years. Ratchet, terrified and groggy from lack of energon, couldn’t soothe it. He wasn’t sure he could have even if he had been at his best. Megatron always made him feel so small. The field was intense, stifling. It wanted to claim him. ..There was something wrong with it. The wrongness made Ratchet’s mind reel in terror. He couldn’t place why.

The hand on his hood tightened as the warlord sneered. Metal protested on that hood and Ratchet gasped in pain. Something cracked. That thought fled. He grabbed at the arm holding him fixed.

“Stop!” Ratchet begged, not caring about dignity. “Stop! Please!” Since he couldn’t stop the rage going on in the other’s field, he pulled his in tightly and gave nothing further away. Denied the other in every possible way he could. The bond was trying to expand for the closeness. Ratchet clamped down on it instead.

Vents hitched in Ratchet as Megatron’s hold eased. The pain dimmed.

“Soundwave.” Megatron ordered without even looking up. Ratchet hadn’t even known the other was there. He didn’t dare look, caught by red optics. “Take him to the brig. Make sure the others are denied access.”

“Lord Megatron.” Came the monotone reply. The slender, black mech only moved after that. A cable-like tentacle snaked out to click into the collar around Ratchet’s throat. He’d actually forgotten the collar was there with everything else. 

With Megatron releasing him, the medic slid across the floor some feet before he was hauled up to be dumped on his peds. Ratchet staggered like a drunk and desperately grabbed for the cable with both hands. Not to try and free himself, but desperate for some semblance of balance.

He was not kindly treated on the way to the brig. Messages flashed constantly cross his HUD, warning him of low energon levels. They were dismissed as he could do nothing about them.

But once in his cell, and to his relief he was alone, a drone brought him energon not long after Soundwave left. Holding the cube in his hands, Ratchet knew he had to get out of here. Megatron was already aware of the bond. It was merely a matter of time before he learned to do something with it. Especially with the two this close. Hopefully Megatron would be too busy dealing with the lack of his army to start more soon.

Moving to the back of his cell, he put his back to the wall and slid down it to sit on the floor. It reminded him of his shoulder, which ached for the thinking about it. There he downed the whole cube as quickly as he could. The low grade tasted awful, but he wasn’t about to say no at this stage. 

There was something wrong with Megatron. It wasn’t really a new consideration, but merely confirmation. As Ratchet’s systems normalized for having fuel he could pin down the feeling he’d discovered as they touched fields. There was an imbalance somewhere in Megatron’s code. 

 

 

The next day was surreal for Ratchet. Alone in his cell he’d found they had left him most of his medical tools. While he couldn’t access the majority thanks to the inhibitor collar, there were others in compartments on his person, and in subspace. He immediately began tinkering. Why he wasn’t noticed doing this on security he didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to argue. Why he’d been left alone, excepting for drone checks and energon feeds, he didn’t know either. Something must be very wrong on the Nemesis.

The collar fought him of course, but he cared little for the pain it caused. It didn’t take the medic long really.

When the drone came in to give him energon Ratchet took the cube, and the arm that offered it to him. He twisted, locking the drone’s elbow and pulled him firmly into the energy bars. It hurt them both, but the drone took the brunt of it and Ratchet refused to give in to pain. It spread through the bond all unnoticed on Ratchet’s side of things. The alarm was going even as the bars shorted out. As had the drone. Letting the body fall, shaking off the pain that left him dizzy, he then pulled the inhibitor collar from his throat and dropped on the drone. Then, having little time, he left the holding cells.

His merry chase through the Nemesis proved that something was very wrong. There were only drones. Nor many of them. The ones here weren’t even very good at fighting. Maintenance likely, and not enough to handle even one medic. Of course he was decently armored and did have weapons. 

Ratchet skidded into a loading bay at the back of the vessel. He was so lost. This place was a maze! The bond was on fire, Megatron trying to find him, but the medic denied opening the bond. 

The room was nearly empty excepting for a lift that dropped below. Desperate, the lift controls were worked and opened to darkness and squall. Over water and during a storm. He didn’t know how he got to be this lucky. Maybe Jazz was thinking about his welfare.

Spark clenching in fear, Ratchet hesitated because it was so going to hurt. This kind of fall into water wouldn’t be pleasant. But then he heard Megatron’s engine growl and launched himself into the void.

The air was electric. Droplets stung as they hit due to powerful winds, but Ratchet flattered himself, limbs spread out to slow his decent, watching carefully. He wasn’t entirely graceful about it, but there were turbine sounds from a flier as he changed position and cut the water with a dive. Ratchet closed all his vents, dimmed all his bio-lights, and hoped some of the air inside could help him float just a little. 

With the storm overhead being beneath the water was disorienting. Hard to tell where up was. Especially as the water rocked him about with its motions. As he touched bottom, the contact helped. Internal gyros calibrated. Pushing off, he picked the direction the bottom was angling up and started swimming.

Breaking the surface was a relief, and by the time he’d dredged himself out of the harsh surf he was exhausted all over again. Hud warnings were telling him that energon was low. He should have taken the cube the drone had brought him. The storm was still going strong, and he found himself on a gray strip of sand leading up to bedraggled palm trees and abused undergrowth. Nothing was happy out here in this storm. He took a perverse comfort for it. The bond was almost painful. Megatron was searching for him through it.

A desperate reach through comms got him nothing, so he closed those down knowing Soundwave could use them against him. Too far to get help. Of course. Frustrated, he vented the water he’d taken on, hand to hood for the pain in the bond.

Shielding his optics with a hand against the pounding rain, Ratchet headed into the trees. They weren’t much cover due to his size. He was luckier than he deserved though, having found land, and not an island. Determined, the medic headed inland.

The Decepticons found him within a few hours regardless. The area wasn’t inhabited so Ratchet found no roads. Poor Thundercracker got a surprise in expecting a medic to be taken down easily, but Ratchet was really angry by that point. Their contest had been distressingly short for the seeker. Ratchet knew all the best ways to make it hurt too.

Sadly, as he hunched over the seeker, ped firmly on aft, fingertips in a wing joint, twisting the wing itself to make the form under him tremble in agony.. Megatron found him. 

Sporting his own assortment of injuries from the brief fight, Ratchet wrenched that Wing in a direction it wasn’t meant to go before stepping away. The cries of pain stopped as the seeker passed out. The warlord transformed while still in the air and landed with a heavy grace. He stepped over Thundercracker to stalk towards the medic. It was certainly intimidating.

He could handle a seeker on the ground who was expecting a pushover. Ratchet knew he couldn’t handle Megatron. Yet he stood his ground and bared his denta up at the warlord, even as the other’s field surrounded him in oppressive folds. There was a rich pleasure emanating through it with Ratchet’s refusal to back down. Ratchet flared his plating to keep from trembling and denied the bond. “I’m not going to stop trying to escape.” It sounded so stupid! Yet it was all he could think to say.

Soundwave transformed and landed not far, behind Ratchet. He didn’t even glance back.

Megatron smiled down to the medic, “You are mine, Ratchet.”

It had been a long time since anyone dared tell him that, and it simply made the medic very, very angry. The last straw for a really bad couple days. Plating flared away from his frame a second time. The emotion erupted out of him, field lashing out, stronger than he’d ever realized he could be. It cleared the oppression of Megatron and drove the other’s field away like hurricane force winds blowing out a candle. “I AM MINE!” He shoved at the warlord hard. While Megatron swayed for the affect of the field, Ratchet only succeeded in making himself stumble back physically for shoving. “Never again! Never again will I be owned!!” He railed at the other, hands tight into fists, optics blazing with the emotion of it all. “I thought you above all others would understand that!”

Megatron however, recovered quickly, and he simply reached out to grab Ratchet, managing to catch the other’s forearm. “What would you know of being owned, spireling.” He sneered. The medic’s field was painful to endure and he began shaking Ratchet by that arm, trying to get him to stop. Normally he could have simply killed an Aubobot, but not this one.

“I AWOKE OWNED!” Oh yeah, Ratchet was mad. Grabbing for the arm that held him to give himself leverage, he even kicked up at Megatron, only to have the effort casually thwarted. His hud was alive with warnings and errors. All of which were ignored. His core temperature was getting high. He was putting too much into this.

That’s when the collar clicked around his throat. Soundwave. The first had been set to low levels. Preventing transformation, denying him access to weaponry. But this time Ratchet found himself going slack. He had no control over his body at all. Even his engine sounds died almost immediately.

As Ratchet slumped down to hang from Megatron’s hold, Soundwave hunched over in agony. Anger bright in his mind, Ratchet drove his field like a knife into the mech behind him. Ratchet wasn’t entirely defenseless, and he fed pain into the Decepticon.

He didn’t kill, but Soundwave might have felt he was dying.

Megatron began to laugh. A cold yet delighted sound. His em field pushed back against Ratchet’s, having regained his mental footing. Ratchet wasn’t having any of it and fought with all his strength. Their bond flared with the struggle. Fields clashed as Ratchet’s attention shifted to the warlord. The wrongness in Megatron’s field began creeping through the link.

And then Ratchet knew no more as Soundwave, reeling, hurting, had triggered the collar. Ratchet heard Megatron’s shout of anger as he went into stasis.


	8. Chapter 8

Ratchet woke with a raging helmache. He was on a berth, a really big one, looking up at a dark ceiling. The Nemesis. Groaning, he tried to rub his face and found his wrists linked together with stasis cuffs. Seems the Cons were being more careful this time. He felt around his throat to find the collar still in place and made a disgruntled sound.

Pulling up his knees, he covered his face in his hands and just laid there a while.

“Were you truly a slave?” A voice asked quietly from off to one side, engine rumbling thoughtfully. Megatron stood at a viewing port, hands clasped behind his back.

Venting raggedly, Ratchet let his arms drop back down, hands ending up against his abdomen. “Yes.” There was no point in denying what was true.

Megatron turned from the window to frown at the medic. He was quiet a time as he considered his words. A flashback to a different age. Remembering made Ratchet’s spark ache. Their bond was a firm thing now, and he was too tired to try closing it. Finally Megatron said, “Your wealth..”

“I did everything I could to gouge my owner’s credit limits.” Ratchet said dully. He was also rather nervous, so rambled a touch, “I had a pretty cage, but it was still a cage. It’s why I stayed in Kaon. Clinics are expensive. It was a way to hurt my owner and help some mechs.” His voice dropped to a murmur, “I liked the miners too. Way nicer than dealing with the elite.”

Heavy steps approached. Ratchet winced and looked away. His field was held in close, aching, for he didn’t want to feel the other. And yet Megatron didn’t push. Not with fields at any rate.

“Then why are you an Autobot?” He stood at the edge of the berth, looking down.

That made Ratchet angry again. If dully. He was so very tired. It created a throbbing above and behind his optics. “After all the slaves you killed?! All the innocent mechs?! Don’t be an idiot.” It made him rub at his face again, pushing messages off his HUD. Pressing digit tips above his optics, in under his helm edge. Someone had at least given him energon, but his systems were unhappy with him.

Anger rushed into the field next to him. Hands tightened into fists. “I do not kill slaves.” Megatron growled at him.

“Oh yeah? Tell that to the millions of them you killed in Praxis, or the millions in Iacon.” Ratchet spit bitterly. “You just saw wealthy mechs. Never bothered to learn the truth.” Of course Ratchet knew the Autobots were no better back then. They had just as nasty a background as the Decepticons. He had joined The Autobots for Optimus and no other reason.

Instead of replying, Megatron turned and settled to the edge of the berth, one leg lifted. Why did he have to be so beautiful? Helm tilting, optics bright embers, the mech lifted a hand to trace a finger down a transforming seam on the medic.

Ratchet’s optics cycled wide as he found a fusion canon all too close along with the caressing. He wasn’t being targeted, but Megatron was using his right hand. Ratchet immediately scooted away from the big mech to press a side against the wall the berth was against. It was a reassuring feeling even though it helped nothing.

Engine rumbling, Megatron gave a chuckle, leaned forward, and simply pulled the medic back, trapping him against hip and thigh.

Ratchet flailed some with it, legs lifting, but the collar immediately kicked in. With a hitch of systems, the medic found himself stilling. Peds thumped back to the padding on the berth. It left him trembling against the warlord. He hated that feeling and tried to rally himself. Kept his field firm at least, but little else. This didn’t stop him from sensing the wrongness in Megatron. The anger at being accused of killing slaves was suddenly gone.

Megatron smiled in satisfaction as he traced the other’s helm details. Disturbingly as a lover would. “You said you awoke, and there is no way your spark was cold constructed.. so how did a forged spark become a slave?”

It made Ratchet hesitate. The sudden shift away from anger had him thinking hard. Like the whole mind had lurched and now was on entirely different tracks. Faults in coding could create imbalances such as this. Faults that could be corrected if he were given the access. Something that his mind automatically started to process. Just how did he get access to Megatron? But.. Ratchet was being asked questions. Uncomfortable, if long irrelevant, ones. “I’m a medic. I told you that a long time ago.”

The finger trailed, coaxing a shiver from the medic. “Explain it.. medic.” Engine growled a warning. His em field was beginning to become oppressive.

Ratchet jerked his face away and turned to the wall. “Forged medics are rare.” He admitted, hating to talk about this, but was able to keep the emotion from his words. “Rare enough that I was the only one in two blooms. That got me sent right to the spires.” A pause, firmly not looking at the warlord, but he continued with, “They.. thought I was special. I was owned by one of the senators directly.”

Megatron was persistent at least, for all it was hardly pleasant for the medic, and that finger began tracing once more. “And were you?” Special?

He couldn’t move, but he still railed, “Stop it!” Ratchet fought against the collar’s hold, and lost.

The touch pulled away immediately. Megatron put that hand to the berth and leaned on it. This allowed him to loom over the medic warming his thigh. “We are bound, you and I. You will never be rid of me, Ratchet. May as well bow to the inevitable.”

Blue optics narrowed, “You don’t know me very well.” Ratchet clamped down hard on the bond, not caring how much it hurt. He was rewarded with a grimace from Megatron. Then a rise in anger. Their fields shoved against one another a time, but Ratchet refused to give. He was the rock the storm that was Megatron raged against. Finally Megatron surged from his seat and left the medic to tremble alone on the berth. The warlord strode from the room.

It was then that Ratchet realized he wasn’t in a cell, but a private room. “Oh slag.” While he prayed it wasn’t Megatron’s, there really wasn’t any doubt.

 

 

They left him alone for some hours after that. The whys of that went unanswered. Ratchet swung off the berth when the collar gave him access to himself. His helm was pounding as he crossed the room to look out the view port. All he could see was water. There he rested his brow against the clear durasteel and thought. The bond throbbed, an ache that wouldn’t let itself be forgotten. Megatron wanted in.

The instability in the warlord was giving him much to think about. It could be his way out of the situation he was in. The problem was how far he wanted to commit himself to it. Did he really want to give in simply in order to mess with Megatron’s code?

Pushing slowly from the view port, Ratchet returned his attention to the room. Spartan, there were few furnishings, and less in way of comforts. The berth, a standing desk, some shelving.. and little else. Certainly nothing he could use to free himself. Not that he had been expecting to find anything. The private wash rack was a pleasure however. Moving inside, he activated the lights and took a quick inventory. Again, barely anything here, but he could still clean himself. If the solvent worked at any rate. Which, to his relief, it did. While still cuffed, Ratchet managed to get the clinging ocean salt and sand from his person. The grit had been driving him crazy. That stuff got everywhere.

There, solvent sliding down over him, Ratchet was reminded of that trailing finger, and it gave him an idea. One that made him grimace. This would have to be carefully done. He was pretty sure he’d hate himself forever too.

The next few days were distinctly strange. While he was brought energon by a bristling Thundercracker, wing still damaged, Ratchet was left alone the majority of the time. No one made him repair either Hook, or the seeker. Did the Autobots still have most of the Decepticon’s prisoner? Not that he got any answers about that. Cut off as he was, he’d no idea what was going on outside of the Nemesis.

Megatron. Well, he was something of a surprise. Still unstable, but always careful of the medic. He’d easily anger, yet always remove himself before any harm was done. 

They would talk of the world before the war. From Ratchet’s perspective. It was almost like old friends catching up. Almost. Megatron seemed lost to it all, but Ratchet found the talks disturbing on several levels. Mostly due to how Megatron’s mind bounced between thoughts. The talks began to repeat, like Megatron couldn’t even remember what he’d been saying day to day. It was totally unlike the Decepticon. Ratchet was growing tired of telling the same things time after time.

When it became clear when Megatron couldn’t keep his hands to himself, Ratchet knew this was because of the bond. Bonded pairs, especially with as deep as bond as he and Megatron shared, seldom found pleasure outside of one another. Didn’t matter the bond had been unwanted, it still affected them both. It was why Ratchet had never sought more than casual pleasure in Ironhide. The old warrior could make him feel and never asked for more. Megatron had the whole of the Decepticons to warm his berth, but none of them would have been enough. They didn’t care to put forth the effort it would have involved.

Yet, for all their frames thrummed with synergy when they were close, and Megatron caressed, he’d stop for Ratchet telling him to. Sure he’d forget after a while due to whatever weirdness was going on inside his helm and try again, but the consent was there. If in a strange way. Megatron didn’t want to take him against his will. While grateful, Ratchet still wondered at it.

This gave Ratchet some time to layout his idea. It wasn’t an easy thing to do with the waiting. This close, the bond was growing stronger day by day, those caresses were growing more and more difficult to reject. He was just as much starving for the contact as Megatron was. A lifetime of firm denials and stubbornness was being rapidly scrubbed away by thoughtful hands. He was beginning to feel Megatron’s emotions as well. 

But that didn’t change Ratchet’s firm will. Nor the fear Megatron inspired in him. The wrongness totally twigged on Ratchet’s synopses in all the worst ways. He denied the warlord any of his own emotions, and knew he could deny the caresses too, but he gradually allowed himself to appear swayed. Let it seem like he was losing control. Which wasn’t all that far from the truth.

Days of this were becoming sheer torture. Little by little he let himself respond to the bigger mech. Showing less resistance each time.

Ratchet pretended letting fear of the big mech fade into desire. And as Megatron came to settle at his back that day, Ratchet was feeling the heat of the mech behind him keenly. Shivering with want for the engine growling need. Like the view port he was leaning against had disappeared. The cool pane wasn’t enough to chase away the heat behind him. 

He didn’t speak and instead vented heavily before resting his cheek against the cool material of the view port. Hands with the wrists still bound, were curled against it as well. The arousal that swelled in Megatron’s field brought him to gasp. The warlord was trying to draw him out. It was a heady sensation, making his whole frame sing.

It was like a wall of raw need right there at his back.

Gracefully, the big mech lowered himself to one knee so that he was more or less even with the medic’s height. An arm curled around Ratchet so that Megatron could spread his hand over the medic’s hood. He had lightly crumpled the plating there many days before, cracked a window, and those marks remained, but now he only caressed. Ratchet shivered with the memory, but felt only pleasure now. 

As Megatron received no rejections he leaned in close and lipped at Ratchet’s throat cables. “Stop hiding from me.” He murmured. His field slid over Ratchet’s, trying to caress his out.

Ratchet made a ragged sound and found himself pulled back against the larger chest. He didn’t fight as the hot mouth worked over his throat cables, the edge of his helm and even to his chin. Something in his valve clenched with delicious anticipation. Almost like his body was betraying him. He found himself trembling.

~ Let go. ~

Only much later he’d realize he didn’t actually hear the words with his audios. They flowed over his spark and with them Ratchet let go. His field unfurled without his say so. It met Megatron’s with a crackle of charge that danced between the two mechs. They melded together without effort, desires mingling. Like they had once so long ago.

Megatron moaned at the back of his helm before moving. Each action was rough as he turned the medic around and forced him back against the view port. Ratchet thrilled at the handling and lifted his bound arms so that Megatron had nothing in the way for the passionate kiss that soon followed. They all but warred with mouths and tongues, Ratchet giving everything he had to it.

When they finally pulled apart, Ratchet chasing after to catch the other’s lip in his denta before pulling away. They looked at one another there for a long moment, almost dazed.

Megatron then broke eye contact and moved both hands to Ratchet’s wrists. It was a long caress up his torso, then along his arms. With a soft sound, Ratchet’s plating shifted to express he wanted more. On reaching the wrists, Megatron simply crushed the stasis cuffs before tossing them away. But the warlord wasn’t done. He lifted Ratchet, sliding him up against the clear durasteal, working arms between and beneath the medic’s legs.

Ratchet found himself spread open, but he didn’t care. He helped, holding to the top of the other’s front panels. Moaning with need even before the long spike slid firmly inside. He couldn’t even remember opening his panels. Only the intense pleasure as his valve clenched around the hard length.

They rutted there against the view port. There was no other thing to call it. Both desperate and wanting. Loudly giving voice to pleasures. Their engine sounds drowning out nearly everything else. 

The pace set by Megatron was brutal. And utterly delicious. Ratchet couldn’t get enough. Their fields were alive, melding completely. One instinctively knowing what the other wanted. Allowing their bodies to move in perfect union. Electric charges crackled between them, the bright sparks of energy raced over and between frames. When Ratchet finally overcharged, the space behind his optics going white with pleasure, it crashed through the bond and pushed Megatron over the edge as well.

As one they roared and sparks merged without even chests opening.

It was a chaotic mess of emotions, memories, thoughts. Neither would remember this however. And for one incredible, all too fleeting moment they were whole.

He came to with his back against the hull beneath view port. Ratchet was still in Megatron’s arms, knees hooked over elbows. The big mech was down on his own knees, sitting on his peds, hunched forward. Megatron was dazed and trying to clear his mind. Small jolts of charge flickered between them still. Ratchet’s plating expanded as he vented hard to chase away heat, but it felt like the effort did nothing. He wanted to speak. All he managed was a static gurgle.

Megatron, his face hidden against Ratchet’s pauldron grunted his agreement. His spike had retreated somewhere during their white out but that didn’t stop the big mech from shuddering with lingering pleasure. 

When finally Megatron lifted his head, the charge had dissipated. The two found themselves looking at one another again. Feeling one another through the bond that flowed between them. Ratchet was hiding something, but Megatron decided that was an issue for another time. Shifting his position, he pulled Ratchet in close and surged to his peds. 

Ratchet urked and clung to the other. As he was carried to the berth he snorted derisively, “I can walk you know.”

“Hush.” Came the firm reply. 

So he did.

 

 

The next few hours were a sharp contrast from the first coupling. Yet far more enjoyable. On the berth Megatron was a gentle, attentive, and passionate lover. It surprised, and to his guilt, delighted Ratchet. It was so very, very good. They explored one another freely, trying multiple positions. Then after a rest they repeated the things they enjoyed best. That Ratchet could top Megatron repeatedly was a pleasure he never would have expected.

Each and every overload was shared. If one was pushed over the edge, the other followed immediately. For two mechs who had been living with dulled drives it was like going from famine to feast. Neither could get enough.

When at last Megatron had slumped down into recharge, Ratchet was feeling decidedly hazy, and utterly exhausted. They were spooned together, Megatron holding him possessively close. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this good. Not that the medic was sure he’d be able to walk straight for a couple days, but every ache was worth it. Couldn’t even feel guilty for the fact he had enjoyed himself thoroughly.

Sadly, he knew there’d be no rest for him. During their interfacing Ratchet found Megatron’s multiple medical ports, and made quite the effort to touch them. Now this paid off when Megatron barely cycled a fan for Ratchet touching one. He jacked in and acted quickly. The warlord had some of the best protections, but Ratchet knew his way around them all. He’d been developing hacking methods for the Autobot Special Operations mechs the whole war. Few knew that. Developed some code he never shared to be able to deactivate wounded Special Operations mechs who couldn’t turn off their own, highly dangerous, combat protocols. With his field soothing, and his side of the bond link pretending recharge, Ratchet quite simply hacked Megatron.

He knew he didn’t have much time. Dropping the miner turned warlord into medical stasis, he dove into code.

What Ratchet found was worse than anything he’d expected. Megatron had already been hacked.

It was old too. Fraying badly and bleeding disrupting code everywhere. It was called a Persona. When you created a false personality that layered over a mech’s real mind. They were generally filled with control code and viruses. Installing a persona allowed the installer to decide the actions of another, while maintaining the illusion of nothing being wrong if someone else jacked in. You could even code a persona to act for only a certain length of time, or leave the mech of free will yet having triggered responses to specific things. 

But this.. this was a persona gone very wrong. Megatron had been too strong for it. The controls themselves were long gone, erased by unknown hands, perhaps even Megatron himself, but the persona had never been removed. Maybe who ever removed the controls didn’t know what a rogue persona looked like. Especially not one that was blended this badly into the real mind. The removed controls had allowed it to grow in strength, slip its bindings, and run rampant. No wonder Megatron was acting crazy. He was constantly warring with his own mind.

While Ratchet had meant to lay his own persona, that option went out the window. There was no way he’d be able to. Nor could he leave it. The medic just couldn’t. Even though it was almost ensuring he stayed a prisoner, Ratchet began working quickly. Cutting the ties to the main personality, wrangling up that straying code, and shoving it all into a proverbial box. It wasn’t a pretty job. Even so it took him hours for he didn’t take short cuts. The medic put Megatron’s mind back together along its original lines, not making changes. He was an idiot. But having been once slave coded himself he couldn’t do that to another.

He was booting the mech when a black tentacle came out of no where and clipped itself to the collar he wore. Ratchet made a sound of startled protest as he was yanked out of Megatron’s heavy hold. He couldn’t do anything as he was slammed into the view port. Red flashed before his optics as his hud spasmed. This time the cool material wasn’t pleasant against his back. Nor was the floor as he was slammed into that next. Something gave way painfully inside his shoulder. The pain was sharp and hard, making him gasp. Waking Megatron with a start.

Soundwave’s field broiled with anger. While he never said a thing, he made himself very clear. Not. Happy.

Ratchet was being lifted for another slam when there came a quiet, firm, “Soundwave, stop.” 

All the sudden new messages were presenting themselves over the errors on Ratchet’s hud. Spark cohesion one hundred percent. Gestation chamber activated. Wait what? Soundwave gave him no time to analyze the processes that were initializing for a good shaking.

Ratchet swayed, grabbing for the tentacle as to ease the strain on his neck and head, held aloft as Megatron pushed up and turned himself slowly to place his peds on the floor. There the warlord sat, and there Soundwave held, waiting his lord’s orders. Soundwave’s field rolled angrily. Ratchet was feeling a lump of terror growing inside him for those hud messages. That shouldn’t have been possible. They hadn’t spark merged? ..Had they?

The warlord was decidedly muzzy as he rubbed his face. But after a moment he motioned to Soundwave, finger pointed down to the spot between his peds. 

Ratchet could feel the black mech’s field bristle, but he was still moved over and plucked Ratchet down hard right in front of Megatron. Even though the collar was still held by that tentacle, it relaxed and he stumbled against the wide chest. 

Megatron curled an arm around him as they looked at one another. “And just why is my third in command incensed at you?” Asked in something akin to amusement.

Ratchet actually had the nerve to look sheepish. “I.. hacked you.” He didn’t deny it because Soundwave already knew, and what Soundwave knew, Megatron soon did.

As red optics narrowed dangerously Ratchet found himself pulled sharply by Soundwave. Megatron didn’t stop it. The bond was a mess of anger and control. He clung to Megatron with desperate fingers. Something in his shoulder screamed pain. His engine revved desperately. “I found you were already hacked!” He shouted quickly. 

It made both Decepticons still. A motion from Megatron had Soundwave releasing the collar. “Repeat that.” Was ordered in a low, dangerous rumble.

Ratchet steadied himself, using the Decepticon commander as an anchor. Hunching some for the pain in his shoulder. Strangely enough he didn’t feel at all afraid. Not of Megatron at any rate. He certainly felt fear of Soundwave.

Had the persona been affecting him through the bond? “I only wanted free.” Was given to Megatron with a quiet gentleness. “I was going to ..tweak things so you’d let me go, but I found you already hacked.” 

He puzzled over why it hadn’t been found. Soundwave had laid a lot of Personas over the years. Clearly Megatron didn’t let anyone inside his code often. But the whole length of the war? “It was an old persona. Really old. I’ve no idea where it came from or why, but that’s why you were unstable. Hush, you’ve been slagging glitchy for ages now.” Megatron got a light smack for growling before Ratchet continued, “I managed to cut the persona free and box it. You’ll need a proper cleaning, but I.. I promise I didn’t change anything.” 

Ratchet vented slowly before admitting, “Your mind is more important than my freedom.” Ratchet hated admitting that. The words made the gathering storm in Megatron’s field fade away. The two held gazes for a long while as emotions played out lightly against one another through the link. 

Was this the truth? 

Yes, yes it was. 

Finally Megatron found himself chuckling. The tension eased away. “Medics.” He snorted before giving permission to Soundwave. “You may.”

Soundwave closed the distance and jacked into Megatron’s collar bone area. His body stilled after that, attention inward.

Megatron turned back to Ratchet, and a hand began moving over the other’s hip and thigh. Fingers traced lovely little whorls on the medic. However, the medic was hurting and dismayed over his internal read outs. A flare of ire as he pushed that hand away. “Stop that.” He snapped.

The touch actually stopped. A frown pulled into place, “You were injured.” He could feel the pain through the link. Not that Megatron was all that concerned about pain, but there was also something else he couldn’t discern. Touching the back of Ratchet’s pauldron, he pushed for answers.

The medic motioned a hand to suggest it were nothing, “The rotor snapped in my shoulder.” Not worried about the pain either. 

“Then what?” Megatron demanded. He wasn’t used to having orders dismissed. There were aspects to this relationship Megatron was just not going to like.

Ratchet took the moment to sit himself on the other’s thigh. Perhaps bold but he was so incredibly tired. Spent on levels he didn’t know he had before now. There was no point in denying Megatron the truth. Not when he’d find it out later, be angry, and make everything worse. Looking uncertain, the medic admitted, “I conceived.”

This floored Megatron, as it was the last thing he would have expected. The warlord’s mind worked before he asked, “You’re sure.”

The medic shrugged, but only on the good side. “Not entirely, no. My mods were all turned off. I don’t think we spark merged. This shouldn’t have happened at all, but I’m getting all the right messages about it. Thanks to the slagging collar, I can’t even check.” Wiggled his sensor laden digits at Megatron.

Sadly Megatron wasn’t about to remove that collar. “We shall have Hook..” Never mind that mech was still on life support.

“Over me going gray!” Ratchet said firmly. Their fields rolled against one another, both stubborn and willful. He wasn’t about to trust a Decepticon medic with his body, much less a possible bitling.

When neither gave way, Megatron engine grumbled and sighed. The link made some things amazingly clear, and this wasn’t a fight he was going to win. His bonded was even more stubborn than he was. Which was one of the reasons they were well matched. In the end Megatron’s field eased back and he leaned forward to kiss Ratchet.

Surprised, the medic none the less shuttered his optics and melted into it. He so shouldn’t be kissing Megatron. Then he remembered they weren’t alone. He cycled an optic to focus on Soundwave then pulled back from Megatron. “Not with him here.”

Megatron only chuckled.

 

 

For hours they sat together while Soundwave worked. Little was said and Ratchet was allowed to curl up on the berth to recharge. He was exhausted. Megatron rubbed at his lower back lightly, but did little more. When next he booted, Megatron was curled around him, awake, but Soundwave was gone. There was energon, and with Megatron’s aid he was allowed to repair his own shoulder. Nothing was said of the conception, but he knew the other was deep in thought the whole time.

The difference in the Decepticon was incredible. No more rapidly shifting tracks of thoughts. He was focused and didn’t anger as easily.

When Megatron grew amorous, Ratchet didn’t say no. 

The shoulder repaired, Ratchet found himself shifted from the edge of the berth by a large hand to his hood. The feeling in the other field told him much as he allowed himself to be laid back.

Megatron said nothing as he began to mouth his way down Ratchet’s torso. Dark hands were seemingly everywhere, fingers slipping into transformation seams and finding erogenous zones.

Delight squirmed through Ratchet and in turn he squirmed. Megatron rumbled in pleasure, all while sliding those hands down Ratchet’s thighs. When they reached knees, the medic found himself spread open. He really should say no. Considering where he was, and who he was with, but there was honestly no point. The hacking had failed, he’s already given in, and damn it, he craved the physical contact. To feel pleasure again was to much for him to resist. 

So there were no denials as Megatron settled himself between those legs to coax Ratchet’s panels to open so that he could suckle there. Ratchet was surprised, and pleased, moaning softly as his valve was explored with lips and tongue. He reached down to caress the white helm and dark hands, unable to reach more, and was rewarded with denta teasing his anterior node. The pleasure flowed freely through their fields to be shared by one another.

Megatron was strangely gentle with him that night, working at him slowly, if passionately. Suckling at swollen, sensitive mesh until he was well lubricated. His knees splayed to give the big mech plenty of room, Ratchet found himself already working up a charge. He ran his hands over himself, fingers dancing with electricity.

Catching glimpse of it, Megatron surged up and climbed over the medic to capture a kiss. His engorged spike slid against the medic’s interface panels. Ratchet wrapped fingers around the white helm and pulled him down to respond in a hungry manner, tasting himself and not caring.

As the kiss continued Ratchet reached down between them. Caressing the spike he found there, before guiding it to his valve. Without hesitation Megatron pressed inside, grunting as he ground down some. Ratchet gasped for that delightful sensation. A node of energy formed in his belly and raced upwards, spreading pleasure.

Their love making was leisurely, thrusts long and slow. Ratchet lifted his knees, peds firmly to the berth so that he could match the thrusts. He lifted and rolled his hips to meet each entry. Clever fingers dug into the seams of Megatron’s armor and brought them both greater pleasure. 

Used to be a lover would have to work Ratchet up for ages to even reach overload once, but Megatron pushed him there time and time again. Almost effortlessly. 

 

 

When, later at night, they danced, slow and intimate, it nearly broke Ratchet’s spark. Neither of them were the mechs they had been when they had first met. There was no pulsing music off somewhere close, no cacophony of voices. Just the two of them moving through a stately dance, enjoying the closeness. Ratchet wasn’t as tall as he had been then, his head barely reaching Megatron’s upper chest, but neither cared. Their fields were melding as they had so very long ago. Like they always had been two halves of a whole.

“You were a slave.” It was a question no matter the tone.

Ratchet vented a sigh. He’d hoped not to go over this again, but wasn’t really surprised. The persona would have taken much in recent memory, and made other memories seem surreal. Megatron also had a really good reason to have issues with slavery. There was a nod about it. “One of many.” After a moment he admitted, “Treated far better than most.” A smirk jerked into being. “Better than I deserved.” Wry that.

Megatron was quiet. Their dance had stilled with the question yet he still held the other. “And yet you were in Kaon, living like the rest.” Better than most for certain, but he remembered the little, barren habitat the other kept. Yet it was clear Ratchet was from the spires. He was trying to understand something, perhaps unwilling to give it full voice.

Wanting to hide his face against the other, Ratchet didn’t. Hiding his face wouldn’t remove his memories. “I’m a medic.” He said quietly, shrugging. How many times had he told the other this now? Tone suggesting it more curse than blessing. Leaning a shoulder against the warlord, the good one, he took strange comfort there. Megatron would understand. “The only medic in two blooms. Thousands and thousands of other mechs, and just one me. That meant I went right to Iacon. Right into being owned, and the academy. The academy itself wasn’t bad.” He paused there to gather himself. Try and make sense of, and condense, a long, convoluted history. “But there’s a problem with knowledge...”

Megatron rumbled, “It shows you the truth.” Impactor never understood that hunger for knowledge, but Megatron knew it would give him much.

Ratchet nodded, weary. “It was all fun at first. I was young, naive.. but as I learned, I saw it all for what it really was. All the gilding in the universe couldn’t hide how rotten Cybertron had become. A rusting, crumbling mass under a filigree. And I could do absolutely nothing about it.”

“You could have fought back.” Megatron clearly disagreed.

“And you could have stuck to your original plan and not take us to war.” Ratchet snapped. “Nothing is ever black and white.”

Megatron snorted in disdain, engine growling, “You were simply afraid.”

Ratchet looked up, angry, but subdued. His features warred through emotions, but in the end he nodded. “I was. I wasn’t a big mech with heavy armor who knew how to unleash violence.” Given as red hands spread over the pale metal before him – that thick, armored plating. “Instead I was medic with insane slave protocols about doing no harm, to obey. And I was alone. That was the hardest aspect I think. There was no one to turn to. No one believed me. Not even the other slaves.”

Megatron shifted to caress the back of Ratchet’s helm, encouraging the medic to continue. For all he didn’t agree with everything, he did want to know. “You were programmed to do no harm?” It explained much on why few slaves rebelled at all. One more cruelty added to a very large pile created by the Council. He didn’t waste emotion on the dead and kept his attention on Ratchet.

There was a little nod, “Of course.” Ratchet said as if it were eminently reasonable. “I’m a medic. I was gifted. Useful.” He stopped there a moment to lend weight to the word. “When the solution of hacking presented itself to me I was floored. It was so simple.. I didn’t hesitate. I reprogrammed myself, and then I walked out.” There was a feeling of steel inside the medic. Like he had to justify himself even now.

Megatron found himself smiling for it. Perhaps Ratchet hadn’t been as afraid as first appeared. “You learned to reprogram yourself.” Not something you found often among Cybertronians. Soundwave had done it. No, it hadn’t been enough for his tastes, but Megatron let that slide. His idea of ‘enough’ was skewed after all. And considerably more drastic.

“Why not? You did.”

Megatron snorted with an engine sound.

“Why are you asking anyway?” Ratchet asked, not raising his gaze. “You don’t think I did anything right.”

There was quiet a moment, his engine kind of purring with a strange contentment Ratchet couldn’t figure out through the link. “Continuity.” Was Megatron’s answer. “I desire to know.”

Now it was Ratchet’s turn to snort and he hit the armor in front of him. It wasn’t a hard contact, but Megatron still flexed his plating for it just the same. Almost a sigh. 

Desire curled through Ratchet’s mind as he watched, aroused by the power of the other, but he focused past that, and the responding engine growl of want from the white mech. “Hush.”

“You started it.” Was the mild protest.

Ratchet found himself smiling. He dropped his brow to that chest and simply let himself be buffered by the other’s field a moment. Without the persona he’d been surprisingly solid in thought and field. But topic. “I ran away.” Picking up the story. “But I was naive and frivolous. I wasted a lot of chances. Burned a lot of bridges.”

Megatron found himself teasing, “You?” He got smacked for it too, and simply trickled desire through his field in way of revenge.

Ratchet shivered, unable to stop the well of lust it brought. The clench of valve. Such a lovely shiver. “Story time over then?” An optic lifted to peek up at him, hopeful.

“Soon perhaps, but not yet.” There was a smile curling at the warlord’s lips.

“Cruel.” Ratchet gave, amused. He so enjoyed the other’s mind.

“You were burning bridges.” Megatron prompted.

Ratchet nodded. “Little by little I changed. I was still chained to Iacon, but they let me roam. I learned how to defend myself some, how to survive. I found I liked most everywhere but Iacon. Learned to live with little, what love really was, and that I liked helping mechs. I think my stay in Kaon was the best moments of my life before the war.” He paused before adding, “And I really liked a quiet youngling who could dance. Even though he was too afraid to come back.” He knew he wasn’t the only one afraid back then.

Megatron didn’t like that topic at all, but neither did he deny his fear. It had been a long time since he’d left fear control anything he did. Instead he changed the topic. “How did we become bonded?”

Another smile pulled into place as Ratchet knew what the topic change really was. He let it slide. “It was during your final days at the arena. Some idiot had gotten his aft handed to him and couldn’t handle it. Shot you. Nearly through the spark.”

Megatron said nothing, but his field told that he remembered it.

Ratchet continued, “Orion found me and dragged me to where they had you in the lower levels. I had managed to piece together your spark chamber but you were in bad shape.” He put his hands on that hood again, pressing his brow there so he could feel the strong pulse of that spark. This time Megatron offered no comfort. “You were gutting. Not responding to anything. There was only one, stupid, thing I could try. With Orion there, begging me to save you, I merged sparks. I’d been trained to control my em field and used that to feed energy into you. Probably the best overload I’d had until a night ago.”

Now that did amused Megatron, but then it was something of a compliment. It brought him to tilt the medic’s face up to him. Yet when they gazed at one another, Megatron’s features were frowning and thoughtful. “Just how did we miss you?” We being the Decepticons. How did a group of rebellious slaves miss recruiting the medic.

Ratchet pulled away at that, pushing some. Megatron let him go. “You were too busy fragging Orion I imagine.” He didn’t mean to sound bitter. It wasn’t Megatron’s fault. “And I was brought back to Iacon in cuffs for having saved you.” He didn’t move far away from the other, and didn’t regret the saving at all. Nor was he jealous that Orion and Megatron had once been lovers. He had wished Orion hadn’t been hurt, but that wasn’t something he could have changed. “They closed my clinic after that.” Bitterness welled up again. “Made me change my frame, and chained me more properly. Put all the code back in. That’s why I wasn’t there. Orion didn’t know. I couldn’t handle being owned again. Dealt with it poorly.” 

Ratchet hugged himself. The other mech didn’t move. “Optimus found me years later. Not Orion, but Optimus. I didn’t learn about what happened between you two, at the senate, until much later.” He shook his head at himself. “Optimus was desperate to save Sentinal Prime, but he couldn’t get through the security, and I could.”

“Sentinal deserved to die.” He was told with a quiet displeasure, expecting the medic to disapprove. The big mech’s engine growled low and deep.

Which Ratchet didn’t. “That fragger sure did.” While he felt Megatron’s surprise at that he kept going. “That was when you and Optimus fought and I disabled your knee.”

It brought Megatron to lean back to see the medic better. “That was you.”

Ratchet couldn’t help but smile in spite of the beating he got for it. “That was me.”

Megatron leaned down and scooped Ratchet up. The medic gasped, and clung to the warlord a moment until he was sure he was stable. As Megatron strode with firm purpose to the berth, Ratchet murmured, “I’ll have to stab you in the joints more often if it gets this..”


	9. Chapter 9

The days kind of blended. He was alone much of the time, as before, but there was a decided difference in everything. How he was treated and of course in Megatron. The Decepticon would seek him out to simply recharge together. Sometimes it became more, but strangely not constantly. While the bond was always there, neither shared much through it. Generally only while interfacing.

The Decepticons hadn’t demanded anything of him. Soundwave hadn’t even been pilfering his memory files for secrets. Ratchet didn’t understand at all what was going on. He knew Megatron didn’t think him some berth slave.

Mostly he was bored. Ratchet had put his mind to escaping again, for all he hadn’t a clue as to how. Mostly he sat on the floor near the view port, and wondered at how he’d conceived. All the mods for that had been turned off. Still were. With the collar in place he couldn’t turn them back on. Couldn’t check to confirm if he had a sparkling at all. It’d be years before he even began showing signs. That there was time to sort things was little comfort. A sparkling. Considering everything he shouldn’t even toy with the idea of keeping it, yet he had no doubts. He was going to. Ratchet longed to be able to scan and confirm, but the collar kept on denying.

Then one very slow day Soundwave came into the room. Ratchet looked up, expecting the visit to be about energon, and didn’t leave his spot. When Soundwave stopped to loom over him, he held stasis cuffs instead of a cube. As much as this puzzled Ratchet, he decided not to fight. The whole getting carried by tentacles had long gotten old. He rose to his peds and held out his hands, hoping this wasn’t a visit to medical and Hook. Didn’t trust that one at all. There was a shallow nod of approval before cuffs clicked into place. 

When the collar was removed next, Ratchet’s optics cycled wide up at the Decepticon. Nothing was asked, and he followed the other from the room, slender, dark digits holding his own. Ratchet couldn’t read Soundwave’s field at all. While he could have forced something now that the collar was gone, that was more than he was willing to do. Poking hornets nests was generally a bad idea.

Led through the Nemesis, Ratchet immediately checked his systems. Without the collar he was free at least to confirm. Without the collar he could feel the tiny life clinging to his own. That brought a little feeling of fear, but it didn’t stop the medic from turning on all the proper mods. If he left them off he’d likely abort.

Soundwave brought him to a room where Megatron, Thundercracker, and Hook waited among a selection of drones. The medic was again struck by just how low the Decepticon numbers were with that. How had repairs been done?

Nothing was said to Ratchet as Megatron ordered Hook, “Now.” With only a nod, the Decepticon activated a ground bridge.

Soundwave hadn’t let go of him, and didn’t now as he was lead through the bridge after the warlord and the others. When they arrived in an open field free of anything other than short grasses and blue sky, Ratchet’s spark leapt. His field spread in joy. Across a short distance of field the Autobots waited. Only Soundwave’s firm hold kept him from fleeing over into familiar arms. The dark mech’s field pushed down at him as well, but this was ignored. He could see a spread of smiles as blue optics searched for and found him. Only Optimus. Prowl, and Ironhide showed nothing. Many of the Autobots were openly armed, holding shackled Decepticons down, kneeling on the turf.

“Megatron.” Optimus said firmly, calling across the distance.

Megatron sneered. “Prime. Your medic, alive as promised.”

Optimus nodded to Prowl, who in turn motioned to others. Roughly half the captured Decepticons were brought to their peds and sent in a line across the intervening space. Starscream was among the first group and Ratchet noticed in high amusement that he’d been gagged. Looked like he wanted to raise a stink too. Only once they all had reached a position behind Megatron, Hook trying to free them from cuffs, did Megatron taunt a Optimus little. “All this for a medic. You are going soft, Optimus.”

The prime could only insist, “You would never be able to understand. Now send Ratchet across.”

Ratchet startled. All this for him? He couldn’t understand why. Chief medical officer or no, he wasn’t worth trading the whole Deception side for.

Silence grew as Megatron played the game. No one moved, no one dared, and Megatron waited just long enough for Optimus’ hands to curl into fists. Then he glanced back and nodded once. Soundwave simply let him go.

Ratchet, reeling a little, didn’t hesitate. He jumped back from the communications specialist to avoid the chance of being grabbed again, and ran. Dignity could go frag itself. The bond too. The medic ran until he was past Optimus, past Ironhide, and was in the waiting arms of those Autobots who weren’t guarding Cons. Fields rioted around him, joyful, energetic, and he reveled in it. Responded. Their voices were the sweetest of music. Even the ones he didn’t like. Someone removed his cuffs, but damn if he could remember who when it was all done.

With Ratchet safely among them Prowl sent the remaining Decepticons across. The two groups looked at one another warily wondering, waiting, to see if another battle would arise. The bond was filled with satisfaction as Megatron nodded to Soundwave. A ground bridge opened immediately, and the Decepticons went through it. Soon there were only Autobots on the field. The bond dimmed with distance.

The tension among the group dropped almost immediately, and Ratchet was swept up in hugs. “Ratchet!” “Docbot!” “You’re okay!” “..Are you okay?” To many questions at once and all he could do was laugh.

It was when Optimus was felt near, that Ratchet looked up, smiling. “I’m okay. Really.” Trying to assure all. 

“They did not hurt you?” Optimus asked, hand coming to settle on his pauldron.

“Well..” The medic hesitated, smiling widely after a moment. He touched the slight damage to his hood. “They did a little, but it’s just because I’m so good at making friends.” Which brought the group to laugh. “They were surprisingly civil. I was incredibly bored.”

That too eased tensions and Optimus ordered the ground bridge. A firm nod from Prowl as orders were relayed. The portal opened and Ratchet went home.

 

 

Not that it was all going to be pleasant he knew. He couldn’t keep a certain something from command. Ratchet had been preparing for it as he was taken to medical to be checked over. The bay had been cleared of all but the command group. No one quite wanted to give Ratchet the chance to disappear again. It warmed his spark. They crowded the berth as First Aid ran the scans.

“How is he?” Optimus asked.

Ratchet snorted, “I’m fine...” But he wasn’t allowed to say more as Optimus gripped his arm. Rolling his optics, he shut his mouth.

First Aid looked up from the read outs, glanced to Ratchet, but then hesitated before saying to Optimus, “He’s in need of some minor repairs, and the shoulder needs some work..”

“I had to repair it myself. The angle...”

“Ratchet.” More firm this time.

First aid politely made a cough sound. Human interactions were creeping in everywhere. “His over all status is within acceptable combat parameters. They gave him energon, and didn’t do him any lasting harm. But..” Now came the uncomfortable silence. First Aid looked at him, a question there. Ratchet merely nodded. Yes, he knew. Yes, it as okay to tell them. And so First Aid said to the growing tension in the room. “He’s carrying.”

A startled silence followed by an explosion of angry voices. Of course their first thoughts were of rape. Ironhide nearly hit something important before Ratchet snapped at him to hold. Thankfully the warrior listened. Even as the others were crying out in everything from dismay to horror, Ironhide was shouting, accusing, “YOU SAID THOSE FRAGGERS DIDN’T HURT YOU!” Maybe the mech wasn’t as uninvolved as he’d been lead to believe. Ratchet hadn’t counted on friends with benefits becoming more on Ironhide’s side of things.

Ratchet’s field immediately swirled around the older mech’s, soothing. It brushed the pain and spikes away even as he said, “They didn’t.” Thankfully Ironhide was close, and Ratchet put a hand on his arm as he slid off the berth. Closeness would allow him to better soothe Ironhide.

Optimus turned his attention to First Aid, “How long as he been carrying?”

First Aid gave, “Two weeks at most.”

Optimus was asking about spark sharing, and First Aid was assuring that wasn’t necessary to conceive, but he barely heard it.

Ironhide’s anger was red hot against him. Ratchet weathered it as he had everything else. “You going to let me explain?” He asked the red mech quietly. The medic gave only quiet assurance and calm strength in reply. It helped calm the others as well.

Slowly, only slowly, Ironhide nodded. How hadn’t Ratchet noticed this emotion? He hadn’t wanted to he realized. This was something for another time, and he pushed the thoughts away. That was a messy tangle he couldn’t deal with right now.

Settling his plating, Ratchet looked around the room at the others and adopted a near sheepish expression. “I borrowed a page from Jazz’s play book and set an energon sweet trap.” It was a special operations slang for using interfacing to get in close to a target. Which meant Ratchet had chosen this in order to help his escape. For all the issues, it actually had worked. “I wasn’t forced.”

Not everyone got it, but Jazz and Prowl very quickly did. Jazz burst out with a laugh. “Docbot!” He was soon grinning and strangely proud. “Who’d you hack?” Prowl quietly explained the term to Optimus and Ironhide through comms. The Prime’s optics were growing large.

“..Megatron.” Ratchet explained.

Silence again, but Jazz was shaking with laughter. Optimus hesitated. “You.. hacked Megatron.”

Ratchet nodded firmly, “Yes.. but he was already hacked. I couldn’t do anything I had actually planned to do. So.. I put him back together.” That still frustrated him a good deal. Hands were motioned to express that. Stupid medics are stupid. “Me carrying? I can only assume my mods malfunctioned. They were turned off. They were off when I got the notices, and I couldn’t even turn them back on until after my cuffs were removed.” For some reason he didn’t mention the collar.

The news of his mods malfunctioning took a back seat to the first half. Even Jazz had stopped laughing. Ratchet took pity on them and motioned for them to be quiet. He could have killed Megatron, easily, but hadn’t. Not with being a medic he couldn’t. “I know this is a mess, and I’m sorry. I couldn’t.. couldn’t take him out. I don’t know who hacked him, but it was old. Pre-war old. It had the stink of council shadow work all over it. It was a full persona. Someone had removed the command controls somewhere after..”

Jazz murmured, “An’ when you remove the controls, everythin’ breaks free.” They at least understood he couldn’t fight a medic’s code.

Ratchet nods. “He’s been operating with a rogue persona in control for a very long time.”

Prowl looks to Optimus, wings hitching up a notch. “This matches up with all the data we’ve been gathering on his errant behaviors. Progression, time scale, lack of tactics he’d used previously..” 

Optimus stilled the tactician with a raised hand. The prime was no fool and asked, “What happened after you removed the persona?”

Ratchet gripped one of Ironhide’s hands between his own, trying to keep the other from shouting again. “He let me go.”

 

 

First Aid made the needed repairs on Ratchet’s shoulder and hood. They also gave his code a close going over. Had to be sure Soundwave hadn’t left any surprises for the Autobots. It was baffling to find him clear of anything.

After a long wash, the medic sank down to his own berth, in his own room, on the ark. He’d been longing for this simple pleasure for weeks now, and was grateful when his mind let him sink into some much needed recharge. 

When he woke a long time later there was a familiar figure seated on the edge of his berth. Ratchet smiled up at the old warrior. “You taking lessons from Jazz too, only on how to pick locks?”

Ironhide shrugged, not a bit guilty about being here. “I’m on the security.”

“I suppose you are.” Ratchet murmured fondly before sliding himself over to make room. 

Ironhide stretched out, on his side, bringing their faces close.

Ratchet traced the worn features and the warrior shuttered his optics. It was with only a dull sadness, and some pity, that he said, “I can’t give you what you want.” Maybe he hadn’t wanted to see that before. The love that lay between them. Not with the bond.

Instead of arguing, Ironhide merely nodded. “I know. You got a bond.”

Which of course surprised Ratchet. His touch stopped as optics widened. “..How?” How did you know?!

The old warrior chuckled, “I have been around the block once or twice, Ratchet.” He found himself smiling and slid an arm carefully around the medic in order to pull the other in snug. He was rewarded with a warm feeling of pleasure from Ratchet’s field. Arms shifted to hold in return. It was so nice to be held and know he was safe. “I’ve seen it before. Don’t happen often, but unwanted bonds leave their mark. Broken bonds leave a mech empty, so I knew yours had t’be unwanted.”

Ratchet couldn’t help but feel a spread of warmth for the other. “And just what did I do to deserve you?” Meaning it in a good way.

There was an amused grin as Ironhide shrugged, “Slagged off Primus probably. You’re good at that.” The kiss that followed was filled with laughter. But when Ironhide pulled back he said, “You’re keeping it.” Not really a question.

Ratchet shrugged, glad for the lack of twinge in his shoulder. That poor shoulder. It’d taken some serious abuses over the last weeks. “Yes.” He wasn’t going to lie to Ironhide.

“…” The pause was a long one as Ironhide struggled to keep himself calm. “Why? It’s Megatron’s!” To him that meant horror.

Ratchet put his helm against the other and shuttered his optics, “Because the monster we’ve been fighting isn’t the sire of this bitling.”

“But it’s Meg…”

“Ironhide.” Ratchet’s tone was sharply calm and heavily layered. Mechs generally fled at that tone, leaving the one being addressed to defend themselves alone. While Ironhide wasn’t afraid, he shut his mouth. Ratchet continued more gently. “My life is never black and white. My spark is a slagger and I’m always sabotaging myself. That makes life awkward, painful shades of gray. I love you, Ironhide, I really do, but this.. This I’m keeping, because I’ll be dead and gray before I let anyone take away MY Bitling.” He bit the words out at the end and even poked the other.

He was expecting agitation, even anger, but Ratchet wasn’t expecting the smile that spread in over Ironhide’s face. “You love me?” It had never been said before.

Groaning in exasperation, Ratchet pushed at the older mech, and was pinned in place by strong arms. “You are a slagger.”

“I get it.. I get it.. we’re keeping the bitling.” There was almost a glee rising up in Ironhide. It was such a strange manifestation of emotion that Ratchet laid there and stared at the other. “But say it again.”

We. The we melted his spark. The simple joy there completely undid him. Ratchet sighed and told, “I love you.” But would Ironhide continue to do so once he knew who had bonded to him?

 

 

Optimus Prime apparently knew something. Then again it was decidedly hard to pull anything over those optics. Ratchet had kind of been waiting for it. He had known Optimus for a very long time, longer than he’d been Prime, so it was no surprise when he was asked to Optimus’ office. 

Coming in, he made sure the door was locked before he approached his old friend. Seated at the worn desk, Optimus rested back in his chair and motioned Ratchet to another. The medic nodded and sank down.

The question was still a little surprising, if only for the bluntness, “How long have you had a spark bond with Megatron?” It was a rather important question after all, being that the two groups were at war and bonds tied minds together.

Plating lifting and lowering, Ratchet pinched his nasal ridge. No point in denying it. “Since you begged me to save a certain gladiator in Kaon.”

Optimus was quiet a time, surprised. “Ratchet..” That would mean that the entire war the two had shared a link. And it was entirely his fault. It explained many things he’d puzzled over during their years together.

Ratchet lifted a hand to stop the other. “The bond has been a dead thing until we came to Earth. Don’t ask me why this changed, but that’s all I know. We haven’t been sharing anything.” This wasn’t strictly true of course, but the moments of fusion had been rare, and never involved Autobots.

A denied bond was a painful, awkward thing, and Optimus found himself pitying Ratchet. “Why did he let you go?”

Ratchet could only shake his helm. “I don’t know. Even with how things are now he won’t share most things with me through the link. I won’t either. I hadn’t even suspected I’d be freed until I was pulled out onto that grassy field. The only thing he felt was satisfaction. I haven’t gotten anything from him since.” He’d gotten almost nothing the whole time.

More quiet as the prime considered, “Does he know you carry?”

Ratchet nodded. “Yes.” He didn’t bother waiting for another question, “I told him because it would have been worse if I hadn’t. Soundwave would have found it.”

Silence reigned after that, Ratchet simply watching Optimus think. But after a while he had to ask, “You haven’t even asked me about keeping it.”

Optimus gave a chuff sound that was soft laughter, “What point is there in asking of what I already know the answer to?”

Ratchet had to give that Optimus knew him well. “Okay, just why did you trade all the Decepticons for me? That was pretty stupid, Optimus.”

“You are arguing over the conditions of your own release?” Optimus seemed amused.

“Slag yes! You didn’t trade me for like Starscream or someone, which would have made sense. You gave away the entire Decepticon force! Why?”

Optimus looked away, considering. “Energon.” He admitted. “Megatron and I worked out an agreement of sorts. Yes, I gave more than I should, but feel the trade was worth while.”

Ratchet vented, engine grumbling. “My life was worth ending this war!”

There was silence a time before Optimus gave, “We shall have to agree to disagree.”

 

 

Unfortunately any pleasure Ratchet had found in returning soon died. Optimus had difficult decisions to make concerning the medic. While he remained in charge of medical, Ratchet was removed from the command loop. It made sense.

The command team was told of the bond, and the changes in it recently. Ratchet would have rather that not be made known, but he didn’t protest Optimus’ decision. He could assure all he wanted that he wasn’t giving secrets, but Optimus couldn’t risk that. Ratchet understood.

That it cost him Ironhide.. wasn’t much of a surprise. The warrior was incensed, hurt. He immediately cut off all ties with Ratchet, and avoided him. Treated him like a traitor. Sometimes Ratchet felt he was. Not even Optimus could convince Ironhide otherwise. To have that love all out of no where, and lose it as fast?

Remembering that simple joy over a few words.. hurt. Really hurt. A bright moment almost immediately dashed away. Ratchet simply shut down and let Ironhide rage at him. They were over and Ratchet had no idea how to fix it. He wasn’t giving up the bitling for Ironhide. And he couldn’t break the bond. He’d tried for years! So he did what he always did. Retreated. Pushed others away. They were all used to it now and few made any protests. Jazz and Mirage wanted to, but their work kept them away from base for long periods. Which was fine by Ratchet. It’s hard to wallow in self pity when you have old friends propping you up.

Without the command contact, Ratchet was left to guess what was going on, but he wasn’t entirely out of the loop. Mechs still talked, and he still gave Prowl his reports on medical business. Prowl at least still trusted him, even if he followed orders.

Megatron had disappeared. Along with the Nemesis, and by all accounts, Soundwave. He had quite literally left the rest of the Decepticons abandoned on Earth. The energon he had argued hard for was delivered. None of it made any real sense.

With Starscream in charge the Decepticons didn’t last long. It wasn’t that Starscream wasn’t a good field commander, for he was brilliant, but he lacked the means to hold the Decepticons as a concerted whole off the battle field. While it wasn’t immediate, the Decepticons broke apart bit by bit, ending up captured by the Autobots again, until only a few remained free. The seeker trine was still an issue, but they were becoming a minor issue.

The brig was decidedly full of mechs in stasis once more.


	10. Chapter 10

Without the Decepticons making serious trouble, the Autobots crafted, and shot into space, a succession of communication buoys. It took some months to establish communication with Cybertron, but they’d done it. Cybertron was shocked they were still alive, and Autobot command thrilled. No one had seen any sign of Megatron at all, and there was good news from home. The Decepticons had been defeated on Cybertron. During the thousands of years without Megatron there, the Decepticons had been whittled down until only Shockwave at Darkmount remained. Cybertron was almost entirely in Autobot hands.

Arrangements were made, and a new Ark was sent to earth to pick up Optimus’ team. Once it arrived, the crashed ark was stripped to the hull and everything hauled up into orbit. This meant it was a crowded ride home, but it was none the less finally a ride home. The only problem is that somewhere along the way someone had let slip a little to much about why Ratchet was in the doghouse with command. With Ironhide’s support the others were treating him like something of a traitor too. 

Leaning a shoulder against the seam where view port and hull met, Ratchet was watching earth dwindle as he folded his arms over his hood. The sparkling was doing just fine, but it was far too early for him to be showing. It’d be another good year or more before that. His thoughts were pulled from that with a hand to his pauldron.

“Hey, docbot.” Came a warm voice.

Ratchet’s optics slid to Jazz. “What do you want?” said without any real motivation. The only problem with going home on a crowded ship was that his friends wouldn’t let him wallow. He still had them of course. While he didn’t realize it, he had more friends among the Autobots than he believed. It was kind of hard for many on the team to accept Ratchet a traitor just because someone whispered it to them through gossip.

“Can’t escape me now.” A slow grin spread on the mech and his visor gleamed. A hand cupped his elbow and gently pulled him from the window. “Let’s go.” Jazz seemed all too pleased with him. His field was radiating.

“Says you.” Ratchet snorted, but he was outnumbered. Mirage was there behind him, hands settling at hips. While he hated it, Ratchet jumped for the sudden appearance. “… You slagger!”

Mirage laughed without a bit of shame and the two pushed and pulled him from the view port. Ratchet vented and let them lead him. He really didn’t have much fight in him these days. “Where are we going?” He demanded, putting on a grumpy expression.

“Jes somewhere private.” Jazz promised, field soothing. This proved to be Ratchet’s own habitat. It was small as he’d given the officer habitat to First Aid. Soon Ratchet was positioned with his back to Jazz’s hood, cradled there, and his legs over Mirage’s lap. Kind of bemused, he found himself cuddled into submission. There was nothing about arousal in this, and instead a lot of platonic love. Energex appeared some somewhere, but Ratchet didn’t partake. Neither asked why, nor offered as they shared the flask. Ratchet relaxed in warm fields and against warmer frames.

“So.. either of you going to tell me what this is about?”

Jazz said with great amusement, “An intervention.”

Mirage nodded agreement. “We got tired of you sulking around all the time. We’re also sorry about Ironhide.” They both already knew why he had cut things off.

Ratchet was quiet a moment before admitting. “Me too.” He was really unhappy about that. 

Jazz said without much conviction, “He’ll get over it.”

Ratchet idly traced the fingers of Jazz’s dark hand with his own fingertip. It made the other twitch a little, and amusement spread through field. “We all know that’s not likely.” Ironhide didn’t get over things.

Mirage murmured, “You still have us.”

Ratchet found himself smiling, even as he said, “Doesn’t change much.”

“Ya need t’take yer helm outa yer aft.” Jazz told him firmly. “Ironhide’s a mess sure, but ya done too much good for everyone, for way too long, t’believe ya’d betray us.” He motioned the flask. “Yeah, it’s sticky, but slag, ya wouldn’t sell us out.”

Mirage agreed, “Stop letting the vocal minority convince you that you’re hated. Ratchet, you enjoy wallowing in self pity rather too much.”

“I hate you both.” Ratchet groused. It earned him a kiss to the helm. Didn’t help they were absolutely right. 

“We love ya too, Docbot.” Jazz grinned. “Look.. Prime knows you ain’t sold us. Prowl knows it.. anyone with a sliver o’processor knows it. Stop hidin’. We need ya, an’ ya need us.”

Ratchet put a hand over the area where the sparkling was. It was just a tiny blip of life right now, but it still meant a great deal to him. “You’d think after all this time with the Autobots I could grasp that.” His tone was apologetic. 

Mirage put a hand over his and smiled. “You fight everything, Ratchet. You always have. Even your own better judgment. That’s just your way.”

“An’ that’s why ya got friends. We make sure ya don’t dig yerelf in too deep.”

 

 

Cybertron had little changed he found. Still a complete ruin of a world. It had taken so long to get it this way that it’d take multiple times longer to right it. The rebuilding was already underway.

The Decepticons in the brig had been brought back as well. It’d take a long time to sort things out, but the plan was to put them on trial.

The return to Iacon was a loud affair. The ark was greeted by a cheering assortment of mechs. Smaller than anyone would have wished for, but it was still good. Ratchet didn’t want to think about how many had died. Old friends were reunited, and all welcomed home.

The Autobots that remained on Cybertron had established something of a Council to run administratively in the absence of the Prime. Once Optimus returned he’d actually let them continue running things. The Prime didn’t want to lead the people in peace time. He didn’t feel he had the right. He also soon left Cybertron for some unknown reason. No one knew why. 

The separation that followed was slow and careful. No one realized it was happening until it was too late. Prowl was assigned work in an administration office and gladly gave himself to assisting. Jazz and Mirage were shifted out to other cities, searching for supplies and any mechs that might be pulled back into the fold. One by one the whole team was spread out, all over Cybertron. Weeks became months with little to no contact.

Ratchet was allowed to work for a time in the Iacon medical center. Not it’s head medic, which for he was kind of grateful, but among the ranks. Yet as time passed he was reassigned somewhere else. A lesser clinic that saw less work. And then again to somewhere even more remote.

Ratchet thought it strange. While he sought positions where he could be useful, especially in medical, he was turned down.

They wouldn’t let him work in an official position, and when he pressed for something, anything to do that wasn’t sitting on his aft in the middle of no where, the council called him in and gave him a choice. Prison or exile. 

The choice wasn’t difficult, but it still left Ratchet feeling gutted. Exile? Was it for the bond? He’d been given no reason. Nor much of a choice for that matter. Surrounded by some really big, aggressive mechs as he was given this news, the medic bowed to the inevitable.

He was alone as he packed a ship with what supplies they would give him. While he wondered at the lack of his friends, at this point Ratchet just didn’t have the strength to fight much of anything.

With no one to say good-bye to, the medic returned to Earth. How could he know that his friends were faced with the same choices? Purposely divided to limit trouble. Unable to reach him.

The humans, working hard to join the galactic society, knowing nothing of his real issues, gave him a place to stay. It certainly wasn’t the best of places, but the tiny missile silo hidden in a bluff in Nevada would do. The ceilings were high enough for even Prime, and there were multiple rooms. As he worked to build some necessities in the place, the humans kept tabs on him, but mostly let him to himself. He watched a lot of human tv. Browsed their internet for biological medical information. Even played some Minecraft.

Mostly he worked. Borrowing a page from the humans, Ratchet first figured out a way to use solar panels to make energon. The top of his little bluff gleamed in the sunlight, and those panels gave the energon a light, almost citrus flavor. Golden instead of pinkish-purple. It was distinctly odd! Yet the system produced enough for both him and the base equipment, so the medic certainly had no complaints.

By the time he’d gotten some control panels and basic security up, his abdomen had started to distend. When he finally got a medical berth made, he’d been almost waddling. Plating had retracted, layered against his sides almost protectively, and the mesh in his middle a wide expanse. The sparkling within was active and developing well. In spite of it all, or perhaps because of his extensive medical training, Ratchet had been having no real issues. Sure there were aches and pains, minor issues that needed tweaking, but he’d been taking good care of himself here on earth. While he might ignore himself, his medical protocols certainly weren’t about to let a bitling suffer. His own good health was pivotal for the other.

It didn’t mean he was without issues however. Alone, he dreaded the birthing. How was he going to do this by himself? It made him devote a lot of time and effort into creating a medical berth. It’d somehow have to pick up the slack.

The whole time this was going on, the bond was dark.

But one windswept day, the sun a haze in a minor dust storm, Ratchet got visitors. Non human ones. Security beeped at him and showed a Cybertonian ship bearing the Autobot symbol landing outside. Near Ratchet’s own ship. A brief hail also said Autobots.

When it was Mirage who walked down the ramp, followed by Jazz and Prowl, Ratchet was smiling. He disabled security and went out to meet them.

All three stopped at the sight of the medic, and optics went wide all around. Jazz burst out with, “Yer huge!” It’d been a very long time indeed since any had seen a carrier.

Ratchet put a hand to a hip covered in paneling and snarked, “And here I thought I’d worked so hard to keep my svelte figure.”

Amid the laughter Ratchet found himself hugged, and responded with his own. He’d spent how long pushing fields away? Now he was desperate for any kind of touch at all. The humans were nice, but they couldn’t communicate in the ways he needed. Even Prowl was in on the hugging, for all he backed up a bit to give the others better cuddle room. Jazz didn’t quite let him escape completely.

“Let’s go inside?” Ratchet said, the dust storm kind of annoying.

As they entered the base, Mirage noted sadly. “He’s too big, isn’t he?”

Ratchet put hands to his belly as Jazz asked, “Wait, what?” Jazz and Prowl were firmly holding hands he noticed.

The medic simply nodded, “He is.”

Prowl frowned, “What does that mean exactly?” He certainly had little knowledge of carriers. It wasn’t anything he had needed to know about before.

Ratchet brought them into the main area. There was only one seat, but no one even tried for it to allow Ratchet the chance to sink down there. The sitting down part was never an issue. It was the getting out of the chair that was hard. He was feeling decidedly like a manatee on roller skates. Big, awkward, and likely to careen out of control at any moment. He hadn’t been able to transform in a year. “When the time is right he’ll have to be cut out. He’s too big to pass otherwise.” Aches eased as he stretched out his legs.

Each of them expressed dismay in their own way, but Ratchet dismissed this with the wave of a hand. “I knew that was highly likely from day one. I’ve been preparing for it.”

Prowl’s wings sank with a small tock sound. Considering they were silent normally, that tiny sound expressed much. “You were going to do this alone.” Were.

Ratchet caught that and frowned, even as he nodded. Yes, he was. “Just why are you three here? Not that I have issue with it.” Optics shifted between the three.

Jazz came to sit on the arm on his chair, draping his own arm around Ratchet’s pauldrons as he leaned in. Lounging against the medic. His field was teasing, but Ratchet could feel the heavy concern hidden beneath that. “Kinda hopin’ you had a couch t’surf on.” He tweaked a point on Ratchet’s helm and got smacked for it.

“Seriously?” Ratchet asked. He didn’t try and get Jazz to move though.

Prowl and Mirage glanced to one another, but Prowl nodded to Ratchet. “We found ourselves exiled in a similar manner.”

Mirage nodded, “It took is a while to clean up after ourselves. Sorry it took us so long, but that’s more or less it. Got a corner we could recharge in?” Cleaning up after themselves had taken years. Ratchet wondered at what that story could mean.

Prowl offered hopefully, wings lifting, “We brought energon.”

Ratchet found himself laughing. With happiness, and no little bit of relief. Not alone. He motioned to the hall leading to the empty rooms he’d found no use for. “Pick a room. You just can’t have mine. I’m too old to recharge on the floor.”

He was a little surprised later to find all three were sharing a room. And a berth. Not exactly something he would have expected, but who was he to point fingers. They had formed a trine of sorts. Not too surprising considering Prowl. Being Praxian he was coded to be most comfortable in one. That Jazz was willing to bond? That was the strange part.

That they were extremely noisy after hours? That was something he could endure.

With their help, the little base improved. Things that Ratchet had simply had to put off due to his expanding belly were finished. Furnishings appeared in the main room, more solar panels installed. Security got a great deal better for the trio’s efforts. Ratchet found he could relax more. Which he needed. His hips and lower back were aching constantly, and his over sized bitling loved to kick at his internals. Painfully. He couldn’t even lay on his back anymore. Recharge was spent curled up around his widening middle, angled inwards in such a way that the berth itself did much of the supporting. Often with warm bodies curled around him. For which he was grateful.

All in all Ratchet felt much loved. Surrounded by friends was somewhere he wanted to be.

Which of course made it all the more awkward when one day, a good year later, the bond warmed to life.

Ratchet knew he was nearing his due date. And today everything ached. A deep seated hurt that wouldn’t go away. He was standing, hands against the back of a chair, as he rocked himself. The gentle motion eased the twinges in his hips and lower back. Not really in true pain, but more of an intense discomfort, he none the less gasped as the bond changed.

For the first time in five years it warmed. Didn’t quite open, but Megatron was indeed on the other side being careful.

Heads lifted immediately as Prowl and Mirage looked over. Jazz was out for a drive, but they never left him alone, so the other two were here. “Ratchet?” Mirage asked first.

Ratchet could only say, “Megatron.”

Prowl rose to his peds, wings high, and asked, “How much time do we have?”

Mirage asked, “Could we do anything anyway?”

Ratchet bowed his head as a pain formed up in his sides. It spread around him, all the mesh contracting. It concentrated in the back and all over his belly meshes firmed up. “Oh slag.” The medic gasped, gripping the top of the chair back as he rode the pain out. It didn’t last long thankfully. That would sure explain the extreme discomfort he’d been feeling all day.

The two mechs were there immediately. Prowl’s hand was at his lower back, fingers soon digging in to rub as he found the meshes rock hard. “What’s happening?” The enforcer demanded. He seldom raised his voice, but he didn’t need to. The tennor cut through battlefields. 

Ratchet gave him a wan smile. “Contraction.”

It was Mirage’s turn to say, “Oh slag.” With Megatron on the way.

Grateful for those working hands, Ratchet straightened up, venting hard. He forced his own body to work the way he wanted. If for a little while. “It’ll be okay. This is my first, so we should have a few hours before we have to do anything. There’s time enough to greet our.. guests.” He couldn’t stop the sudden longing he felt. His bonded. The sire. It was too much of a mix for him to deny. He was rewarded with a calm assurance through the bond. Acceptance. The touch was such a relief after so long in the dark. “But just in case.. Mirage, get the berth ready?”

The royal nodded and raced off. Prowl was there at his back, supporting. “Are you sure this is a good time?” Together they swayed, Prowl holding some of his weight, helping to ease the pain. 

Ratchet shared gratitude with the other through his field. “Are you going to tell Megatron he can’t be here for the birth of his bitling?”

An almost amused twitch in field was shared by Prowl. “You raise an excellent point.” None of them could stop the warlord. “I’ve warned Jazz.”

“Good.” Ratchet huffed as the pain faded. “Get the security turned down?” The enforcer nodded and moved away to do that. 

Ratchet took himself down the passage that lead outside. The others normally used alt modes to zoom around, but all he had right now was a determined waddle, with a hand to his lower back. He was excited, and he was also so very nervous. Why he wasn’t feeling any fear he didn’t know.

He wasn’t alone long however. Prowl was racing down the tunnel, shifting to root mode once he was near. “Ratchet..” He protested, wings high. 

Ratchet waved him off and got outside in time to watch a dark ship land not too far away. It wasn’t the Nemesis, but instead a much smaller, neutral built deep space cruiser. Looked expensive too. Where the hell did Megatron always manage to get the nice toys?

Together they watched as the cruiser settled down amid a haze of raised desert dust. Prowl was nervous and trying not to let himself move forward to protect Ratchet. 

When Megatron emerged he looked little different. Excepting for the lack the fusion canon. His arm missing the weight of that huge weapon. Striding down the ramp, his optics were immediately on Ratchet. Then those optics widened. He’d never seen a carrier before. Behind him Soundwave followed. 

There was confusion through link and field as Megatron approached. While he knew Prowl was there, the enforcer was completely dismissed. Stopping near the two Autobots, towering over them, his attention was only on Ratchet. “Is.. this normal?” A little dismayed at the size of the medic. A hand twitched, lifted, but didn’t touch. After a moment he asked, “May I?”

Ratchet snorted, “Absolutely normal.” Was assured. “You aren’t exactly a minicon you know. And yes, you may.” So strange that he was being asked, but he liked it.

Ratchet relaxed into the careful touch that slid across his belly. The bitling inside responded with a bit of struggle. Megatron was fascinated, if in a disturbed kind of way. “Where is his helm?” It was kind of obvious that the movements pressed into mesh were limbs.

The medic could only laugh as he heard Mirage racing through the tunnel. “Down.” He pointed. “And low enough that you’d have to reach up through my valve to touch it, so how about we avoid that?”

Megatron grimaced and nodded.

Shifting up, Mirage tried to sound normal. “Everything’s prepped.” 

Ratchet nodded his thanks to the royal.

Megatron’s optics narrowed. “Prepped?”

Ratchet couldn’t stop the smirk that formed up. “I’m in labor. Your timing is impeccable.” He patted the white arm and turned. “Come on. We don’t have a lot of time. He has to be removed before he’s pushed down further.” While nervous, the medic sounded so very calm about it.

“Removed.” Megatron rumbled, kind of transfixed for a moment. Prowl and Mirage turned to accompany Ratchet as the warlord watched the medic waddle.

Ratchet glanced back. “He’s too big to birth. We have to.. Ack!” Megatron had stepped forward and quite simply leaned down to gather Ratchet in his arms.

Looking dispassionately down at Prowl and Mirage, Prowl having produced a blaster, Megatron murmured lowly, dangerously, “Lead the way.”

Ratchet found himself relaxing against the white hood in spite of himself. “You are all idiots.” Megatron merely rumbled again.

The moment passed as Prowl put the weapon away, and everyone headed inside.

They were all passing the main living area when Ratchet felt the tight pull around his middle. Everything decided it was time and tensed. His back rose to a sharp white of pain that spread around his sides to cover the whole front, contacting. Oh did it hurt. He clenched his denta and gripped to Megatron, but he didn’t push. Didn’t dare. His engine whined protest. While this imperative screamed in his processor and errors started sliding around his hud for the lack, they were pointedly ignored. No, pushing right now would be bad. He was rather grateful he didn’t have to try and walk during this.

Megatron’s steps didn’t falter. He ducked slightly to enter the tiny medbay that the Autobots had made here. “Is this normal?” Was asked with a calm the warlord didn’t feel. This close to Ratchet the pain was screaming through the link. Megatron did what he could to take some of it.

Prowl nodded firmly. “Put him on the berth.” Was ordered. Then he hesitated before adding, “Please.” Wings didn’t even twitch. “He’s in active labor and his frame is attempting to expel the protoform. We must remove it before the protoform can become lodged in Ratchet’s pelvic area. It’s far too large to pass safely.”

Mirage nodded, standing at the berth controls. “If it lodges we could lose them both.”

“Are either of you medics?” Megatron growled, reluctant to put Ratchet down and into their care.

Ratchet snapped, “Slag you! Put me down. I am a medic and they know what to do. We’ve been preparing for this for over a year now!” He even slammed a fist into Megatron’s chassis. Not like the Decepticon had bothered to be here during the last five years, so he wasn’t much needed now.

There was such a firm determination through the field from Ratchet that Megatron carefully laid him down. Prowl rather boldly pushed the warlord’s arm away as he plugged a jack into the medic’s collar bone port. He worked with smooth efficiency on a datapad, even as Megatron loomed and growled at him. Until Ratchet’s whole body relaxed. Sure you could still see his abdomen contracting, but there was no longer any pain. 

“Thank Primus.” Ratchet whispered, gathering himself. He didn’t tell Prowl what to do next as the enforcer was already doing so. Cutting the code commands that were bringing about labor. Gradually the whole of Ratchet’s abdomen relaxed. The errors and messages behind his optics slid away. Labor had stopped. Prowl nodded to Mirage that he was finished.

Megatron’s field was working up to anger until Ratchet’s slid into it. Calm. Nothing is wrong. The bristling warlord’s plates worked and then settled. A question was posed through the link and he snorted. “I’m not leaving.” Was the firm reply.

“Then let them work.” Ratchet gave back, holding his gaze.

Megatron refused to leave, but did allow himself to be positioned near the head of the berth. Soundwave was banished out to the main room. The berth itself did most of the work, as Ratchet had so carefully built and programmed it too. Once he was in proper position, awkwardly splayed out, but too tired to really care how embarrassing it may have been, Ratchet watched as it used lasers to cut his abdomen open. It was below the upper swell, so he couldn’t see all that clearly, but the berth’s boom arms, and flashes of the laser, were clear. Prowl and Mirage monitored everything carefully, Prowl still plugged in to have a better look at Ratchet’s vitals.

There was a roaring engine sound in the outer room, the squealing of tires, and running peds. Soon Jazz was edging carefully around Soundwave and into the room. “Shoulda told me it was t’day!” He protested.

Ratchet chuckled, “It kind of snuck up on me.”

The procedure was messy of course, fluids everywhere, but it wasn’t long before Mirage was pulling out a fluid covered form through the neat slice in Ratchet. Jazz was there with a mesh to scoop the little one up and start rubbing him clean. Checking him over. Mirage turned back to Ratchet for the next stage. The gestation chamber was cleared of everything that shouldn’t be there, and resealed. All in all it took only minutes. The medic too was cleaned.

But as Jazz nudged Megatron out of the way to lay a dusty blue and gray infant on Ratchet’s hood, the berth arms shifted upwards and began cutting again. Megatron’s field shifted, disturbed, and Ratchet tried to assure him once more. “The conception mod has to be removed. It’s malfunctioning. Kind of a miracle nothing went wrong.”

Lifting a hand he smacked Megatron idly to pull the Decepticon’s attention elsewhere. Down to the tiny mechling on Ratchet’s hood. It wasn’t all that happy to be honest. Moved out of familiar surroundings and now in the bright lights and cold air. His cry was thin and high. Ratchet was enthralled as he soothed the crying and traced fingers over the rounded suggestion of hood, the womb curved limbs. Tiny pricks of blue in the miniature face told what color the mechling’s optics were. While he could online those optics, the little one couldn’t quite see properly yet.

Once a piece in Ratchet’s abdomen was removed, the berth closed him back up. With this Jazz brought a thermal wrap and placed it over carrier and bitling. “Yo.” He addressed Megatron. “Would ya carry him? Best if he’s in his room t’rest.”

Kind of nonplussed about how casual the Autobots were being with him, Megatron merely did as asked. Prowl removed the jack before stepping away. It took a little arranging to ensure the mechling stayed on Ratchet’s hood, but both it and the medic were picked up and carried to where Jazz lead the warlord. It wasn’t a large room, but the berth was of generous size. Not large enough for Megatron however. So after considering a moment, the Decepticon simply sat himself down with Ratchet sprawled between his legs. It was a very careful sprawl, Megatron taking care in the arrangement of limbs.

Ratchet felt so tired as he let himself be arranged. Hadn’t done anything, not even the full course of labor, but he felt he had been run down to critical levels, then made to do it again. “I am reminded why we don’t breed this way often.”

Megatron’s engine worked as he chuckled. With his bonded close a strange sense of comfort wormed through him. A decidedly alien sensation, but one he found he enjoyed. Their fields had folded into one another, melding.

Yet even in this comfortable warmth the mechling decided to fuss. He stretched, mewling. His own, albeit tiny, field was spiking.

“What is wrong?” Megatron asked. Sparklings for novelties for the elite. He knew nothing of them.

Ratchet chuckled, “Let’s find out.” Removing a plug from his wrist, the medic carefully jacked into the infant, at the tiny collar bone. After inspecting the diagnostics, the medic began shifting. It was awkward as he worked free something at the side of his torso, beneath the arm, and pulled a slender cable free. “Mostly he’s grumpy because it’s not dark and tight.” Ratchet seemed amused at that, “But he could also use some energon.” Ever so carefully he plugged the cable into a similar spot on the mechling. As biolights worked through lazy patterns the mechling stilled. He stuffed a fist against his mouth and shuttered his optics.

“Crisis averted for the moment.” Ratchet smiled.

It left Megatron baffled. “Why would you even want this?” An heir was an intriguing idea, but this whole process was dangerous. Extremely lengthy. Any mech who hadn’t had Ratchet’s knowledge, and his gifts at building, would have likely died.

Having expected that question to some degree, Ratchet rested his helm back against the Decepticon and simply shared why through the bond. The shock of conception, the all too selfish desire for something of his own that gradually faded into something else entirely. Love. The feeling of that tiny spark beneath his own. Watching it day by day go from simple energy into a full on mind and life. For a time he existed only for the mechling, and thrilled at it. Sharing emotions with the tiny field that was a part of him. It all flowed into an intense sense of love, protectiveness, and need to experience all the mechling had to offer. To watch him grow, and develop.

It was unexpected. For Megatron at any rate. Multiple emotions all at once, each so rich and full that they took him completely. As he let it all wash over him, some how knowing that to fight would have ruined the experience, he murmured, “That is an intoxicating.. mess.”

Ratchet laughed, sending that through the link too. His mirth was exhausted and yet so full. “Isn’t it though?” As he felt the pulse of that new spark against his hood, Ratchet could only smile down at him.

As Megatron looked down at the small form he realized he’d been changed. In the simple touch of emotion. Damn the medic. Where he’d seen something frail and useless before, now he could only see the mechling through the frame Ratchet had created for him. Love and potential. It allowed him to decide something. “Return to Cybertron with me.”

“Um, what?” Ratchet tilted his head so that he could cant an optic back at the Decepticon. Couldn’t really see him well from this angle though. Then his processors caught up. Damn this exhaustion lag. “I can’t.” Before Megatron had to repeat things. “I’ve been exiled. If I return it’d be to a prison.”

“I would never allow that.” Megatron said with assurance. There was a firm satisfaction flowing through the link.

It made Ratchet’s optics widen. He’d been gone from Cybertron for years now, and had heard little at all of his homeworld in that time beyond what the trio had told him. Each had a situation similar to Ratchet. Cut off. “..What did you do?” What had Megatron been doing in those years?

Megatron smiled, satisfied. It was a rich feeling. As though the Decepticon’s lusts had finally been sated. He traced some of the lines of Ratchet’s helm with a fingertip. “I rule Cybertron.”

So not what Ratchet had been expecting. The insistent ache in his belly that he’d been ignoring now rose to sharp pain as he tensed. Emotions rioted in an attempt to process.. but the mechling broke him out of that. The little one began to cry again, reacting to Ratchet’s distress. It made the medic struggle to get a hold on it all. No.. calm.. Calm, little one.

And then Megatron was there too. Emotionally he was firm and steady, lending support to the medic through the bond. Ratchet gasped softly for it, and clung. Both he and the mechling relaxed. The pain faded.

Once he’d gotten a hold of himself, Ratchet asked, “You going to explain that to me?”

Arms slid down to cradle him more fully. There was care not to jostle the medic too much and make things hurt more. While Ratchet’s middle would return to being its original configuration in a day or two, for now it was still swollen and distended. Megatron snugged the medic in close, a tender gesture. “I rule Cybertron.” As if that explained everything.

Ratchet smacked him with a free hand, already exasperated. He had no energy for patience right now. It was also unsettling to be treated tenderly. That wasn’t shared however.

It was kind of fun to tease the medic, but Megatron took pity on his weary bonded. His. What a strange feeling that was. Not the want to own, but instead the pleasure in knowing he wasn’t alone. “The Autobot council which exiled you are all, in fact, Decepticons. Quite loyal as well.”

The implications made Ratchet feel cold. But as the mechling whimpered, he reined that in. Mustn’t share the bad emotions with the mechling. “That.. isn’t like you at all.” He murmured. To hide in the shadows?

“Oh? Are you so sure?” Was asked in a deep rumble. “You, the beautiful mind and spark that freed me?” 

Ratchet shivered even as he blushed. Megatron thought him beautiful? It made him feel strangely giddy, but now was not the time. “You’re.. right. I don’t really know you, do I?” He’d known the persona.

Megatron relaxed into the feel of the two sparks in his arms. “We have time for that.” The learning of one another. He found he wanted it.

Wondering if he were betraying his team for real, Ratchet found he wanted it too. “Council?” was prompted.

A shift in engine was followed by a chuckle. “Cybertron is on the brink. You know this only too well. Prime has been saying this in every battle where we faced one another. Once you cleared the persona I knew it too.” Megatron almost sounded tired for it all. Almost. Yet there was an excitement lurking beneath. An eagerness for what was coming next. “What I desired originally, so long ago, has been brought to fruition. The corruption of Cybertron has been cut out. Remnants remain certainly, but for now we must stop the bleed the cutting brought. And as much as I fight with my pride, I knew it could’t be my voice that began the next stage. The persona had done its work too well. I am monster, pariah. The council does this work for me.” Tilting his helm he looked down at the smaller mech.

“Come back to Cybertron with me. Not for peace through tyranny, but peace through equality. Empathy.” Megatron asked. “We both have strengths and weaknesses. Together we can overcome everything. Two slaves from different ends of the spectrum creating a better future for our progeny. I..” He hesitated, hating the reality, but there was no fear in facing it. “I need you. Your firm morality, that quick mind. You will keep me on the proper path. Of this I’m sure. My dream is of building now, not destruction. To this end I have laid aside my arms.” Meaning his fusion canon.

It was such a pretty picture. One the Autobots had been dreaming of for a very long time. Ratchet, however, was one of the few who didn’t want to recreate the golden age. He knew only too well there had never been one. The picture Megatron painted for him was of something new. “Would it last?”

Megatron shrugged. “Does anything?” But he felt warmth inside his spark for the figure in his arms and shared that. “It will last beyond our life times and that will be enough.” It had taken the Decepticon some years, but he had come to accept the bond. Finding Ratchet after that had taken time. The longing had become searching.

Ratchet thought on this, petting the mechling for a long period. The little one, sated with the energon feed, drifted off into recharge for the light touches. “So.. if you control the council, why was I banished at all?”

A deep venting followed. “Unfortunately, when you grant autonomy, mechs begin to think for themselves.” Megatron said in an attempt to be funny. Ratchet smacked him for it and was rewarded with an engine rumble. “They saw you for the threat to them you are, and thus exiled you. I had given firm orders not to execute anyone, excepting for specific criminal charges, so they were left with few options.”

“Me? A threat.” Ratchet’s tone was mocking.

Megatron was strangely quiet a time. “Who resettled my armor by hand alone so that I could survive in the arena? I’ve had medics tell me this is an impossiblity. Who singlehandedly saved a gladiator who would turn into the Decepticon warlord by repowering my very spark? Who gave me the means to kill a prime? Who saved a prime when we fought. Who helped create the firm moral foundation the Autobots now stand on? Who refused to give in the face of every battle, every danger, throwing himself among..”

“Stop.” Ratchet snapped, disturbed. He could feel that Megatron had a great many more Whos in that list, he’d barely begun, but for now they went unsaid. 

But Megatron wasn’t done. “Prime faltered once you were gone. He sent you away and destroyed his ability to command properly in the process. I will not make that same mistake.”

While Ratchet was sure Optimus would handle things just fine without him, he didn’t argue with the warlord. Instead he said, “I’ll go.”

 

Megatron moved out into the living area of the tiny base with a firm stride. In his arms, wrapped loosely in a blanket, was his offspring. Who was thankfully quiet. The little one was awake however, tiny hands swaying, and optics not quite open. Ratchet was on his berth, recharging at long last. The medic had been exhausted, but his processor had been to wound up to rest for some hours. They had spoken for a long period, until Ratchet finally gave himself to recharge.

Prowl was the only one in the area. Who knew where Soundwave had taken himself. Likely to their cruiser. The enforcer was clearly tense, but he made no issue of it. Instead he looked over from the control panel and waited. Doorwings spread and retracted gently. 

They looked at one another a time before Megatron simply asked, “Energon?”

Wings lifted in surprise, if only a touch. Megatron was asking. But Prowl merely nodded and left the panel behind to take a cube out of a storage compartment.

Megatron lifted the golden cube in surprise once it had been passed to him. He turned it in his hand, watching it gleam with white blobs flowing through amber. “What type of energon is this?” It was unlike anything he’d seen before, and he’d taken in a lot of really bad energon over the millennia.

Prowl’s lips twitched at the corners. He felt nearly a drone to Megatron’s field, but the Decepticon could tell that there was something there he couldn’t quite reach. Distinctly odd. Idly he longed for Ratchet’s em field control. “Technically Solar energon.” The answer was provided. Perhaps anticipating the next question, which was after all his forte, the enforcer added, “Ratchet developed the means of taking the human solar power panels and using them to create proper energon. The flavor is.. unique.”

Megatron said nothing for a time, but found himself looking back to where he had come from. Ratchet. Of course. The medic’s humility was almost laughable in the face of all his achievements. Others had attempted this before, solar energon, so it has hardly a new concept. Solar was seldom used for the simple fact solar panels made easy targets during war, and for the most part it made a nasty, weak energon. The Decepticons had used it only in times of desperation. But this cube was unlike any others, if for color alone. The white at the core told him it was strong.

“Does he have a designation?” Prowl asked, drawing Megatron from his thoughts.

Red optics settled on the Autobot second in command. Whether he still was, Megatron didn’t know. Nor did he care. “Ratchet has chosen Renovarus.” 

The white helm tilted, “Does this have a meaning?” All Prowl’s reactions tended to be small, subtle ones.

Megatron looked down at the dusty blue and dark gray form tucked into the crook of his elbow. Where the colors came from he didn’t know. “Renew. It means renew.”

Prowl considered this a moment, then nodded his acceptance. Perhaps even his approval. “May I?” Hands lifted to the mechling, but didn’t take. Didn’t even touch. He waited for permission. “We didn’t get a chance to wash him.”

While extremely reluctant due to procreation protocols, Megatron decided the idea, itself, was a good one, and he allowed Prowl to take Renovarus. The enforcer was extremely careful, and offered, “Thank you.”

Drinking his energon as he watched Prowl clean the mechling with tender care, Megatron found the flavor too sweet for his tastes, but on the whole enjoyable. Quite the change from the low to mid grade that he and his Decepticons had been living on. It brought a pleasant flush to his systems.

Something shifted in his thoughts, a familiar niggle on his synopses, and Megatron looked back to where Jazz was standing not so far away. His optics narrowed for how close the other had gotten, unnoticed. The saboteur merely flickered his visor in a wink at the Decepticon as he sauntered past, ignoring the rumble of warning from the bigger mech’s engine. “Not bad, eh?” Meaning the energon, but he didn’t stay close. Instead he went to lean around Prowl. “There he is!” A grin spread.

The two Autobots were speaking through their communications arrays, but Megatron found he didn’t much care.

Almost as if they were insisting to themselves he wasn’t there, Jazz said, “Hey, Reno.” The mechling was aware, but fairly quiet. His blue optics a bright draw to the attention as he waved and stretched his limbs, little hands working to grasp. Jazz gave him a finger to grasp and was thus rewarded. 

After a moment, Jazz lifts his dark head and turned to look up at Megatron, “Ratchet?”

“Recharging.”

A brief moment of quiet followed before Jazz asked, “What happens now?” Prowl glanced at him, but little else. The wings didn’t even twitch. Renovarus was lifted from his bath and carefully dried. His colors had become richer for the wash, but still weren’t bright hues. His offspring would be in cool shades.

Megatron considered his words as he pinched the empty cube and the remains dispersed. “Ratchet has agreed to return to Cybertron with me.”

The two looked at one another, and one of Prowl’s wings twitched.


	11. Chapter 11

Ratchet hurt. It was from the surgery to remove both mechling and procreation mod, so not a danger. Still, that didn’t make it feel better, even though it had been more than a day since the birthing. Ratchet had recharged for a very long time, and had managed to return to his original configuration. No longer waddling was a relief. The weight he’d carried for years was now shifted to his hood, where the mechling was cradled in a mesh sling he’d created while waiting for the birth. The humans had some seriously good ideas when it came to offspring care, and he’d borrowed freely. Like the pacifier Renovarus now placidly suckled on.

They were bound together by the energon tube, which left Ratchet’s hands free as he stood before the control panel, idly running some checks.

He couldn’t be surprised when the Autobot trine came to surround him. Pauldrons slumped slightly as he looked first to Prowl and then to Jazz on the other side. Mirage was of course at his back.

“Cybertron?” Jazz asked, field warily curious. Engine sounding uncertain. Not one of them liked this. Their fields were a strange combination of thoughts and feelings due to the trine, but all were worried for him.

Prowl put a hand to his arm, “Ratchet.. is he forcing this? The bond and his being the sire..”

Ratchet started to get angry, but stopped himself when Renovarus make a hitching sound in preparation to cry. Fingers curled into fists on the control panel, he flexed his plating and made himself calm. Soothed the little one through fields. “That’s a factor yes, but there are other issues.” He wasn’t going to deny it. However, the next part was spoken through comms so they could be private. << He says the Autobot council are all mole Decepticons and that he rules Cybertron. I don’t know what I can do, but I do have some influence over him. I have to try. >>

There was an immediate shift in fields. All three had different reactions, but their decision was fairly quick, << Then we’re going with you. >> Mirage spoke for them all.

Truth be told all were incredibly bored here on Earth. It wasn’t that they disliked earth. They all adored humans. The issue lay in that they’d spent most of their lives in the hard push of war. Each day seldom being enough to get all the work done.. and here there was little to do. None resented, nor regretted, their staying with Ratchet. They’d do it all again in a spark pulse, but that didn’t end the crave for some action and purpose. 

Ratchet didn’t want to argue with them, but he lifted his hands, << It’d be like walking into a Decepticon base… >>

Jazz scoffed out loud for that. << Oh, like we ain’t never done that before? >>

Mirage slid his arms around Ratchet from behind. << We aren’t leaving you. Not again. >>

Ratchet could feel the firm resolve all around him. They’d decided. He merely nodded, accepting.

<< Where’s Megatron? >> Prowl asked, thoughts already on other things. << You’d better talk to him about that. Are we stripping the place? >> Wings worked behind him as he began plotting the take down of this place.

Venting, plates shifting, Ratchet sighed. Yeah, he’d have to talk to Megatron about that. << He’s out on that cruiser with Soundwave. And yes, we should take everything. The humans will be all over it the moment we hit orbit. >>

There were nods and Jazz hugged on him. “We got your back, boo.”

Mirage asked, “Solar panels too?”

Prowl chuckled, “Everything.”

They left Ratchet to walk out of the base alone. As much as they didn’t like it, all knew Megatron wouldn’t like being faced down by the group. With Renovarus close, the medic walked up the ramp to the neutral cruiser. The door opened for him before he could knock. Soundwave stood just inside.

The two stared at one another, fields touching only lightly. Ratchet read what he could in that field, not pushing, knowing the other was giving him the same courtesy. Neither was quite certain where to go from here.

He wasn’t sure what made him decide, but he removed their energon tie, unclipped the sling, and silently offered out the mechling. Soundwave would never hurt Renovarus. 

The Decepticon’s field rolled with surprise. Almost like an exclamation point went on over his head. As pleasure curled in through his field, Soundwave reached out and took the small form.

Ratchet left them cuddling and went in search of the warlord. Megatron was in a side room, reading. Something Ratchet just knew the other did a lot of. Red optics lifted over the datapad when the medic settled into the doorway, waiting for permission. Not because he felt he needed it, but to be polite. It’d be a balancing act to form bonds with Megatron, so might as well try and start on the right ped.

Megatron merely lowered the pad and looked across at him. He was sprawled in a chair, legs spread, looking relaxed. Looking gorgeous. There as a curious tilt of helm and then he nodded. As Ratchet approached, he made a soft rumble, “Where is Renovarus.”

“With Soundwave.”

Surprised, Megatron put the pad down and offered the medic a hand. When it was accepted, Ratchet was pulled to stand between those splayed legs. “You let Soundwave take your offspring?”

Ratchet snorted and boldly settled onto that lap, lounging down against the wide hood. “Soundwave would never hurt him.” It felt so good to be there. It was too soon for arousal, his systems still winding down from carrying so long, so all he felt was comfort.

The engine beneath him murmured and he felt Megatron’s pleasure in his closeness. His willingness to be there, and the lack of fear. As a dark hand caressed his back, Megatron said, “No, Soundwave never would.” Not without great cause at any rate. He let the quiet settle a moment before saying, “You are here for a purpose, and it is not to seduce my third with offspring.”

Ratchet found the humor behind the words made him smile. “Pit, if I had known that would work, I’d have pounced you millennia ago.”

For once Megatron decided to be patient and didn’t press. He merely slid an arm around the medic.

Ratchet finally sighed and admitted, “The others are coming with me.” It wasn’t up for discussion.

Pleased rumble shifted to a growl, but Megatron really wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t long before he said, “Very well.” but.. “They will aid me.” He wasn’t going to have free loaders.

“That won’t be an issue if you aren’t an aft about it.” Ratchet poked the mech as that arm tightened some. “You’re the one who wanted me to keep you on the right path. Don’t start arguing with me now.”

Non plussed, Megatron merely growled at him, but accepted the prodding. So like every time he didn’t like a topic, he changed it. “We, my Decepticons and I, have created a small community in Kaon. Will you allow us to use your solar energon system?”

While a little surprised at being asked Ratchet nodded, “Of course. We’ll have to expand it a good deal. What I’ve got could feed maybe eight mechs, but not easily. We also need to take down the bunker. We can’t leave it for the humans.”

Which Megatron accepted easily. He never much liked humans.

Ratchet wasn’t allowed to help in that however. Not one of them, Decepticons included, would let him work. So he sat with Renovarus and watched. The view was decidedly nice he decided. Especially in being surrounded by gorgeous mechs.

For all the little base seemed more empty than anything, stripping it filled the three ships that were here. 

As Ratchet sat inside the cruiser brought by the Decepticons, cradling Renovarus, he wondered if he’d ever have a stable home. The mechs that made any place he stayed a home were partially here, but something stable would sure have been nice. Seems his whole life had been a long string of always on the move. Especially during the war.

The trip back was a little awkward as the two groups attempted to establish a balance, but Ratchet spent his recharge cradled in Megatron’s arms and that was enough. 

They made good time, and slipped into Cybertron’s weak atmosphere without trouble. Autobot command didn’t bat an eye as Soundwave spoke in a false voice to give their registration and trajectory. 

But it wasn’t the surface on which they landed. Dropping down a very wide access hole, they lowered down into a tremendous cavern near Kaon. Huge even by Cybettronian standards. There were other ships here, including the Nemesis, all fitting with no trouble. There were few mechs however. An unknown neutral motioned them to their docks, each ship settling down in turn.

When Megatron disembarked first, there was a scurry as Starscream roared in to land not far away. “My lord! Welcome back.” He mockingly bowed, “How..” This trailed off as Soundwave and Ratchet followed with Renovarus against the medic’s hood. The seeker gave Ratchet a disgusted look. The medic was really no surprise, but the Autobots who emerged from the other ships were. “..My lord?”

Megatron merely said, “My guests require a comfortable habitat. Unload the cruisers, but make sure to give the solar panels to the constructicons. They are to begin installing, and replicating the system.”

Jazz, Prowl, and Mirage came to stand near Ratchet. Jazz was looking decidedly amused at Starscream. No one was really surprised to see him here. Even if Starscream had once been abandoned on Earth.

The seeker tore his gaze from the Autobots and lowered his wings to something of a submissive posture. He was of course simply trying to be petty. “I’m afraid my lord we have no open quarters of that size available...”

“Then give them yours.” Megatron motioned a dismissive hand and began to stride off. When Soundwave followed, Ratchet shrugged at his friends and did as well.

Starscream was sputtering as Jazz patted him on the way past. “Everythin’s marked as t’where it goes. Thanks, Screamy.”

“Screamy!?” The seeker’s voice trailed after them, spewing vulgarities. 

About half way across the huge expanse of docking bay, Ratchet murmured through the link, ~ He doesn’t sound too happy about that. ~ They normally didn’t talk over the link much. Ratchet was trying to make that more normal by doing it more often.

Megatron snorted in disdain, ~ Starscream can go for a whirl on one of Optimus’ smoke stacks for all I care. ~

Ratchet barked a laugh out loud, and soon had the Autobots sniggering as he relayed that through comms. 

They were brought into the community through a gateway and were surprised at what they found. It wasn’t a collection of military buildings, but a real town. Another cavern, if more modest, was strung up with lighting, and divided into sections. There was a market, an open community area, and even clearly marked entrances for a medical facility, enforcer station, and administration offices. Avenues branched out into the stone. They’d turned an old mine into a town. Everything was on the rough side, but efforts were being made to improve that.

Megatron paused to let them see. “We’re small, and everything yet rough, but we are trying.” He was clearly proud of it.

What was perhaps most striking were the neutrals. They were everywhere. Decepticon symbols were among them of course, but the real surprise was in noticing many of the Decepticons that had been taken prisoner on Earth. They were all here. Remembering what Megatron had said of controlling the Council, Ratchet didn’t ask what he already knew the answer to.

Megatron was watching him, and when their optics met he nodded. “All are welcome here so long as the laws are obeyed.”

Jazz was hesitant as he asked, “What kind o’laws?”

A rough, familiar voice said from one side, “Good ones.” Ironhide was leaning against the wall, arms folded over his hood.

“’Hide!”

“Ironhide!”

Prowl and Ratchet said nothing. Ratchet pulled in his field as he found himself meeting the old warrior’s gaze. Mostly for Renovarus’ sake. Nor did he back down in holding Ironhide’s optics. He hadn’t been the one to break their relationship off. He was still hurt. Ironhide lowered his optics, having the decency to look ashamed.

Megatron put a hand to Ratchet’s back in wordless support, and perhaps to lay claim, “Ironhide is chief of security here in New Kaon, as well as one of my advisers.”

The news did surprise the newly arrived Autobots, and the others did approach the old warrior in order to greet him more properly. Seeing him here did a lot to help ease some of their concerns. 

~ How did you convince him of this? ~ Ratchet asked Megatron, looking up at the other.

There was a firm satisfaction through the link even though Megatron could feel Ratchet’s sense of betrayal. ~ I asked. ~

~ No, seriously. ~

That earned him a patient look from the Decepticon. ~ I asked. He was exiled as you were. I found him drunk in some hovel out at the edge of Polyhex. Nearly left him there, but he has surprised me. ~

Ratchet’s lips thinned, and he decided not to ask more. He stayed close to Megatron though, enjoying the calm assurance through the other’s field. Megatron didn’t ask what had happened between him and Ironhide, and the medic didn’t supply it.

New Kaon was something of a strange place. All were given energon and housing. Sure there wasn’t a lot to go around, but no one suffered. No one was forced into the old class tier system. Not everyone worked, but nearly all did. They were making good, steady progress towards bettering their lives. The few who didn’t work certainly didn’t show themselves to Megatron. Yet they were fed just the same.

The strangest thing of all was that no one feared Megatron. Only Starscream called him lord.

Their habitat was over the administration offices, and modest. Ratchet found he approved. The main room had a large standing desk with piles of datapads to show there was work going on. A communications array had been built on a wall not far away. Two other rooms were nearly empty excepting for berths. They did at least have a private wash rack.

There was barely anything here, but that would never be a problem. A window looked out onto the community square. Mechs were lounging on benches and socializing. Someone with a synthtar was actually busking. Ratchet smiled for it. Renovarus made a funny sound and spit out his pacifier. Apparently just because. He kicked and made a few other noises. Having tied that pacifier to the sling, the medic wasn’t concerned about losing it.

Renovarus was a surprisingly quiet mechling. Ratchet had expected a lot of crying, and fussing, which were completely normal, but the mechling hadn’t been like that at all. Reno tended to make sounds only when happy. Ratchet decided after a while it had to be Reno taking after his sire. Megatron had been a very quiet youngling.

That same Decepticon settled in at Ratchet’s back and slid his arms around the other. The trip over had been something of a crash course on mechling care for Megatron. Ratchet wasn’t surprised when he proved to be as good at it. Could use a little more patience, but that would improve in time. Now Megatron took up that pacifier and tucked it back into the tiny mouth. Renovarus accepted this and started sucking, making noises around his mouthful.

“Would you consider allowing Soundwave to watch him a while?” Megatron asked.

Ratchet was about to ask why when he felt the desire come flowing through the link. It made him smile. That the Decepticon desired him was intoxicating. “You have some really good ideas..” They hadn’t been intimate at all on the way to Cybertron mostly due to privacy issues and the recent birthing. None of the ships had a lot of room.

 

Megatron was over him, straddling his hips, and moving fast. He had a hand to the wall for support as he rotated his hips, driving himself down over Ratchet’s spike over and over. Laying beneath, quite overwhelmed in it all, Ratchet could only watch in something close to stunned awe as the large mech moved so erotically. He was helping guide the other by hands on dark hips, but oh the view was incredible. The feel of the valve clenching around him doubly so. Charge rolled over the white chassis in long, rippling arcs. 

Oh, the sounds he made. Sinful little noises quite unlike a mech that size should make.

As Megatron leaned his helm back, mouth open in the pleasure, Ratchet couldn’t stop but send a wave of lust through their bond. He’d been lifting his hips early on, but now he held himself steady so that they didn’t slip apart. Megatron’s wanton pace was too much.

Megatron’s slow smile was entirely seductive for the sharing. While the pace hadn’t slowed, he leaned back some to better show himself, and began palming his own spike. It was all for the medic’s enjoyment.

Sure enough it pushed Ratchet right over the edge. Both of them cried out at the same time. Transfluid splattered down over Ratchet unnoticed, his mind was a million miles away, wrapped in bliss.

But Megatron wasn’t sated. Returning to himself, Ratchet was flipped over. Megatron swung off him, slid an arm beneath and simply turned the medic onto his front. Blinking down at the berth, Ratchet began laughing. He didn’t fight his legs being moved, Megatron’s arms under and hooking to the backs of his knees. Almost folding them in against the medic. There, pressed beneath the bigger mech’s weight, held close, hot air at the back of his helm, with a thick spike sliding into his valve, Ratchet immediately overloaded again. He gripped at the berth almost desperately as charge rioted over his plating.

Both of them shuddered with it, unable to stop the share between the link. Megatron was a little light headed, and very amused. “Already?”

Ratchet just dropped his face to the padding, “You have an affect on me.” He could only shudder in pleasure. Might have had something to do with this being their first night together in years.

That very much pleased Megatron and he began to move. He was soon grunting hard with each thrust, helm bowed to the back of Ratchet’s shoulder. The pace was fast, rough, and both thrilled in the union. Ratchet overloaded again somewhere in the middle, but Megatron powered through. Pounded into the medic with complete abandon, chasing overload.

When Megatron finally allowed himself to find release, the combination of overloads knocked Ratchet right offline. The low growl in his audios as Megatron spilled into him was lost to the stars behind his optics.

Ratchet returned to himself in the arms of a possessive Decepticon. Vents and fans on both their frames were working hard, but Megatron ignored the need to cool and had Ratchet pulled firmly against his front as he lay on his side. Mine. Ratchet could only melt into the feeling.

Yet Ratchet also allowed assurances to filter through link and field. “He made his choice.” Meaning Ironhide.

A red optic opened, cycled as it angled down. “Have you?”

Ratchet stretched out lazily against Megatron and snuggled in closer. “Oh yes.” He had indeed made his choice. It had been recently too. Somewhere along the trip from Earth to Cybertron he knew he wanted to remain in these arms for a very long time. Maybe love would follow in time. His field offered comfort without being pushy. “I’m yours.”

Megatron felt emotions like everyone else, but an upbringing of abuse, and a rogue persona for most of his life had left him with some serious intimacy issues. Goodness knows the Decepticons, especially Starscream, hadn’t helped with that.

Megatron’s engine purred before he could think about his reaction. Ratchet smiled against the wide chest, feeling it as much as hearing it.

Megatron didn’t truly care about the relationship Ratchet and Ironhide once had so long as Ironhide no longer held any claim over the medic.

 

Ratchet settled Renovarus into Megatron’s arms the following day. “Read to him. I’m going to take a look at your clinic.”

Standing at his desk, the Decepticon frowned down at the Autobot. “Why? He can’t understand us yet.”

Ratchet lifted a finger. “Yet.” A smile spread. “You love to read. I love to read. He’ll love to read.. for now it’ll just be the sound of your voice, but that won’t last long. The more we offer information, the faster he’ll absorb it. Doesn’t matter if you are reading your work reports. Just read to him.”

While Megatron was dubious, Ratchet left him reading construction reports to a burbling mechling.

The clinic was literally next door. It wasn’t large, and it was quite lacking. The medic had certainly worked with less. The neutral there wasn’t even a medic, and all too grateful to let Ratchet look around in preparation for taking over. Ratchet himself found the back room large enough and wondered about the medical berth he’d made on Earth.

~ Hmm.. question. ~

Megatron’s thoughts were distracted, but he answered immediately, ~ Yes? ~

~ Did they unload the cruisers yet? The berth in the clinic is a piece of scarp. The one from Earth will fit in here. I want to change them out. ~

~ I shall see to it. ~ Firm assurance.

And it was done. Ratchet and the neutral were carrying out pieces of the berth not worth keeping when a group of Decepticons appeared with what amounts to a flat bed. He put hands on hip flare and eyed the group, who eyed him back. But after a moment he smirked, “Would you put things along the walls?” Motioning a thumb back to the clinic behind him.

Having been asked left them hesitating, but after a moment things were moved inside. Ratchet was pleased to find all his tools and the monitor system had been brought as well.

He spent several hours, the neutral having gone, to put the berth together. It felt good to be working again. Yet as he was running diagnostics in the systems Megatron was there. He felt the field before the Decepticon joined him, a distinctly fussy mechling squirming in the crook of one arm. “What is wrong with him?” Megatron asked bluntly. “I am also required elsewhere. You need to take him.”

Ratchet nodded and approached, accepting Renovarus. The mechling’s field told the medic what was going on. “He’s wanting energon.” This was told so that the tall mech knew what that meant for next time. Once the sling was around his chassis again, Ratchet clipped the feeding cable into place. Which of course immediately made the mechling quiet down. 

Megatron watched, then nodded, and strode off.

Seconds after he was gone, Jazz made Ratchet jump, “Freaks me out seein’ him so careful with the baby.” Using Earth words of course.

“Slag it, Jazz!” Ratchet clung to Renovarus, who gave out a startled hick of vents.

The grin was completely unrepentant. Jazz pushed off a wall in the front room to saunter into the back where Ratchet was. “Quaint.” He decided.

Ratchet snorted. “It’s not the best, no.” Still, soothing Renovarus, he patted the berth. “Hop on up, Jazz. I know it’s your favorite thing. Let’s take it for a ride.”

Jazz motioned his hands, “Ah’ll pass, thanks.”

“You sneak up on me, you get scanned.” Ratchet pointed firmly down at the device. “But honestly, I just want to scan to make sure everything’s connected properly.”

While he wasn’t thrilled, Jazz climbed up to lay himself down on the berth. He threaded his fingers together and patted his thumbs perhaps a bit nervously. Jazz hated being in medical.

Ratchet was rocking Renovarus as he got the boom arms to unfold and begin a scanning sweep. There was quiet for a brief time before he asked, “What did you need?” 

“Nada.” Using Spanish. “Jes was checkin’ in. You seen Ironhide yet.” Jazz watched the ceiling idly as he spoke.

Ratchet grunted sourly. “No. Did you really get Starscream’s personal habitat?”

“Naw.” Jazz grinned. “We took a place with a berth that was big enough. Somewhere closer t’here.”

“Oh good. You get baby-sitting duties then. Okay, all done. You can get off now.” Ratchet smirked as he looks through the results. Then he said, “Oops.”

Jazz wasted no time is hopping off the berth. “Oops what?”

Ratchet frowned, double checking some results. “You’ve conceived.”

Jazz’s visor turned a dark shade of indigo almost immediately as he rocked back on his peds. “What?” His voice was actually small for that.

Ratchet turned off the monitor with a grin, “Gotcha.”

“You slagger!”

Revenge was often sweet.


	12. Chapter 12

Jazz became part of security with Ironhide in short order. He began working more with Soundwave after a while though. Ratchet never knew with what, and decided to stay out of it. Mirage helped out Ratchet more often than naught. The royal wasn’t sure he fit in just yet and that helped him stay busy. Prowl became Megatron’s second within a week. The enforcer wasn’t entirely sure about the situation, but his skills were much needed. While he was without pier when it came to tactical situations, that same tactical net made him a genius when it came to logistics as well. Getting mechs and supplies to where they were needed, before they were needed, anticipating issues, and all in all making New Kaon run smoothly.

The problem came in that this had been Starscream’s job. While the seeker was a brilliant commander, and an excellent scientist, he made for a lousy administrator. Megatron played no games with him, and simply cut the seeker loose. Starscream could be heard on the surface as he threw a fit. It only made Megatron dig his heels in all the more. In the days that followed, Starscream left New Kaon.

The solar panels went up without issue, were replicated, and the solar fields grew. They had been mining for what energon they could for all it just wasn’t enough. The mines had been played out long ago. With the panels much improved. Energon ceased being rationed, and there was eventually enough for trade. 

While there were other settlements, such as Polyhex, the only two cities on Cybertron were Iacon and New Kaon. Trade was established, energon for materials and other needs. Not that there was much need for an agreement. Megatron told the Autobot council what he wanted, and he sent energon over in return.

Megatron and Prowl were proving a formidable force. If a prickly one to start. They were often together during the day. Drills began going into affect for the population. No one was being trained to fight, but they sure practiced what to do if they were attacked. A protective bunker laid in just in case. Only Kaon enforcers were allowed to carry arms.

Ratchet worked the clinic and took care of Renovarus. There weren’t a lot of injuries, and what he did deal with weren’t serious. He was a little bored in that regard, yet the medic found he couldn’t complain. He’d also slimmed down a good deal due to removing mods. Didn’t need to be a walking medical berth anymore, allowing him to shove a good dozen mods into a crate he longed to label ‘to never be used again’.

Megatron wasn’t always easy to get along with and yet neither was Ratchet. In spite of that all they were doing well. Ratchet was feeling a touch guilty in that he was falling in love with the big mech. Completely gone was the crazed killer wanting to destroy all. He was hardly sweetness and light, but Ratchet was enjoying himself. The stoic mech with the sharp mind and intensive focus was a pleasure.

Ironhide avoided him for a long time and Ratchet let him. While he still missed the old warrior, he had indeed made his choice.

Then of course Ironhide walked into the clinic. Ratchet looked up from where he had been putting away medical supplies, to still. 

~ Heads up. Ironhide is here. Things might get heated. ~

There was a stillness from the other side. A possessiveness. An urge to protect ~ Do you require me there? ~

Ratchet warmed at the idea of the Decepticon feeling protective. He sent assurances. ~ No. He’s not going to hurt me. I only wanted to tell you because he could get me upset. I’ll handle it. ~

~ Very well. ~ Displeased, but Megatron let Ratchet fight his own battles.

Ratchet didn’t say anything as he watched the old warrior. Just jostled Renovarus to distract from his own nervousness. He pressed a kiss to the tiny, blue helm.

They looked at one another for time, both uncomfortable. “..Can I see him?” Ironhide asked.

That hadn’t been the first thing he’d thought the other would say, but Ratchet still nodded. Renovarus had gotten far too big for the sling during the last few months, and now rested in something of a pouch on Ratchet’s hood. The little mech wasn’t comfortable with the unsettled fields around him, but he wasn’t crying at least. Simply looked at Ironhide with serious, blue optics.

Ironhide felt of relief for those optics, and that he looked little like Megatron. “Where’d the blue come from?” The mechling’s colors were entirely unlike either Megatron, or Ratchet.

“Who knows. It happens. Megatron’s in a constructed body. Maybe Reno takes after the spark model instead.” Meaning what Megatron would have looked like if he had been allowed to develop normally. No one knew what that would have been.

Ironhide didn’t ask to take the mechling, so Ratchet continued to hold him. That was a large comfort to the medic, who wrapped his son in his field and shared only comfort and love. Buffering against the agitated Ironhide. No matter he wasn’t feeling any of that comfort himself.

“I’m sorry.” Ironhide managed.

Ratchet watched him a bit. “Okay.” He wasn’t being at all supportive here, but then he didn’t want to be.

After another brief quiet, Ironhide asked, “Can we…?”

“Can we what?” He didn’t mean it to sound that hard.

Ironhide was nothing if not brave. “Go back?”

“No.” Ratchet squashed that pretty quick. “Can you earn my friendship again? Yes. We’ll see. But more? No. In spite of how long we’d known one another you gave me absolutely no trust at all. You didn’t even consider it. When you learned who I was bonded with you cut everything apart without even a second thought. Then you purposely went around and tried to make others distrust me as well. You destroyed everything I had.”

There was a struggle in Ironhide yet he didn’t argue. It was all true. “I destroyed everything I had too.” He nodded and took himself away.

~ How can you feel pity for him? ~ Megatron asked, having been paying close attention. Ratchet found he had been feeling pity for Ironhide.

Ironhide had suffered too. ~ Ratchet chuckled, ~ You aren’t ready for that answer yet. ~

Megatron snorted, but didn’t press.

 

 

Life wound on. New Kaon had grown considerably as the year passed. More and more were coming to join them as word spread. Some tried to steal their energon only to be completely baffled when Megatron put an end to the theft by giving them what they needed. His punishments could be harsh, but if one followed the laws, no one suffered. Megatron worked harder than anyone who lived under his rule to ensure no one was left wanting.

To this end New Kaon held a celebration each year. It was officially called the Pax Cybertronia Celebration, but few called it that. Kind of a dumb name Ratchet thought, and he wondered who had come up with it. Certainly not Megatron. 

It was the first time the Autobots had participated, and they happily helped prep for the Peace Day party.

The main circle at the center of New Kaon was cleared out in preparation. A small stage erected. This year, due to the bounty of energon, there were even booths selling all kinds of luxury items most mechs hadn’t seen since before the war. It was frivolous stuff like candies, confections, fine energex, and good waxes. They did good business.

Some mechs were sporting fanciful, temporary, paint designs. Who knows where that had come from. How Jazz had talked Prowl into getting feathered wings painted on his door wings was anyone’s guess. Jazz himself was looking rather devilish in painting to counter his partner.

Ratchet was licking what remained of one of those sweet confections off his thumb as Jazz finished another song. So tempted to get another one. Been a long time since he could indulge in sweets. The stage was small, but the concert none the less excellent. Jazz had been prepping for weeks and his performance was highly energized. He had the whole crowd mesmerized.

Megatron stood at Ratchet’s back, hand on the medic’s hipflare. A warm, solid presence. Renovarus was with Soundwave, who hated large gatherings. They were at the edge of that crowd, and as it was clear the musicians were taking a break, mechs began moving away to get drinks and socialize a moment.

But as some space cleared out around them, Ratchet felt a strange curl of amusement from his bonded. Then, sharply, the big mech stomped a ped down hard twice, in rapid succession. The sound spread out and left silence in its wake. Everyone stilled, and all optics were on the pair.

Ratchet craned his helm up and back, giving the Decepticon a curious look. Megatron was looking back at him, expression speaking without words. Well? Fingers tightened on hip as Megatron repeated the gesture. Impatient. The sound of his ped hitting the stone floor was achingly loud.

Then Ratchet got it, and he barked a laughed. It almost exploded out of him. Red hands were lifted as a grin spread, and he stomped his own ped in the same manner. Ready.

Megatron didn’t miss a beat. The two began moving together in the step dance they had once done so long ago. The steps easy at first, but then growing more intricate, faster. They moved, their fields molded together, as if they had practiced for millennia. Graceful, clearly enjoying themselves.

Mechs moved away, space cleared, and laughter rolled through the crowd. Jazz, still on the stage, began clapping the beat, and soon others picked it up. He took up his synthtar in order to play the music that accompanied this dance.

Some of the Decepticons began cheering their commander. Others began to imitate the steps. When Prowl and Mirage kind of appeared near them, Ratchet grinned as they almost seamlessly fell into step. Sure Mirage had to practically carry Prowl out onto the dance floor, but that didn’t stop the Enforcer from giving it his all once there. 

Jazz settled in near Ironhide after a while, after another musician took over, understanding the pain the old warrior felt at seeing Ratchet so easy with Megatron. “Where’d ol’Ratchet learn t’dance?”

Ironhide was well into his cups by this point and grunted. “More wondering where Megatron did.”

Jazz, not unkindly, suggested, “You could ask Ratch t’dance.”

But Ironhide only shook his head. “Naw. Ratch said we couldn’t go back.” He rubbed at his face. “I made such a mess of everything.”

While he thought about it a moment, Jazz offered, “’Hide.. not goin’ back don’t mean ya got nothin’. He’s givin’ ya a chance t’make amends. Why ya slaggin’ on that?”

That had Ironhide watching the medic for a long while. 

The dancing, the music, and especially the drinking continued on well into the night. Megatron had taken Ratchet away long before it all ended, if still late. He was almost desperate for physical contact after the dancing. Passionate and hungry. They interfaced to the distance music for hours until finally they fell exhausted into recharge. 

 

 

It was only a couple of days later that Ratchet was in the clinic, Renovarus on a hip, talking to another mech heavy into a carry. The mech was a neutral, worried about it all. Carrying a mechling was considered both blessing and death sentence. More myth than anything else. Ratchet was assuring him, explaining certain details, when something red flickered in the corner of his vision. Expecting Ironhide, Ratchet turned and was shocked to see Sideswipe through the clinic window. Ironhide had been coming by more often. It’d been nice.

Sideswipe was wary, heavily warmed, and moving as though he were pressing forward into enemy territory. Yet he also looked confused. Ratchet hadn’t seen Sideswipe since the Autobots returned to Cybertron some years ago.

Moving before he thought about, Ratchet was shouting even before he got out the clinic door. “Sideswipe! What the slag...” He stopped as another movement caught his attention, and he looked to Optimus Prime. Sideswipe was entirely forgotten as he stared at the openly armed prime. “What are you doing?!” He was flabbergasted, and angry.

That was when the alarm went off. His comms went alive with chatter. Prowl’s calm voice cut through it all, giving orders.

“Ratchet?” Sideswipe asked in surprise.

The medic pushed past him, anger clear in expression, and planted himself right before Optimus. “What are you doing?! This isn’t a Decepticon military base!!” Without hesitation he grabbed the barrel of the huge baster Optimus held and put the point of it to his own chest. Optimus would never fire at him and it slowed him shooting anyone else. Not that he really believed the prime would be shooting anyone here. It would pull Optimus’ attention right to him. “There are over a thousand civilians here!”

Off somewhere Ratchet felt a building rage. He didn’t have time to address that. Instead he focused on Optimus, trying to get a handle on the prime’s field. Optimus was in combat mode, pulled in and focused. He worked to defuse that.

Stunned at seeing Ratchet, having had no idea the medic was on Cybertron, Optimus hesitated. A frown pulled into place as something made his focus unravel. The prime was soon thinking hard again. Optics flickered away as someone fired a blaster. None of them could see who or where, the sound echoing through tunnels. This triggered more and soon there was a firefight going on. Terrified screams joined in the sounds of combat.

“OPTIMUS! Tell them to stop!” Ratchet begged. Renovarus, clinging to his hood, began to cry.

And then Megatron was there. A tsunami of tons of angry mech moving with more grace than anything his size should. His field was all sharp angles. “OPTIMUS!!” While his bellow echoed Ratchet’s, his was a thunder of sound that shook the very stone. Yet, when he leapt at the prime he didn’t throw a punch. No, instead the Decepticon went for insult over injury. Bare handed he slapped Optimus hard.

Almost unheard by those near the clinic, in comms, Prowl was commanding that all enforcers and Decepticons stand down. Stand down.

Ratchet prayed Megatron wasn’t making this worse.

Optimus rocked with the blow, staggered by more than the physical. He didn’t even get a moment before Megatron was shouting at him again.

“Tell them to stand down! Your people are shooting unarmed civilians!!” Megatron’s field was a crackling force all in of itself. He pointedly put himself between Optimus and Ratchet, yanking the blaster from nerveless fingers. “And don’t you ever aim at my conjunx!” The blaster was tossed roughly to the ground.

The mechling was sobbing, the alarms were going, and Optimus looked so lost. Sideswipe did too. But the prime wasn’t merely standing there, stupefied. It’s what kept Sideswipe from attacking. While not on any of the currently used channels, Ratchet knew Optimus was using comms because the fire fight came to a stop.

Soundwave was suddenly there, making Ratchet jump. He glanced back and let the black mech pull him away. Ravage stalked around them. It took both to calm Renovarus as they watched the goings on. Mostly because Ratchet couldn’t stop feeling the intense anger from his bonded.

Optimus fingered his chin, “Conjunx?” As soon as it began, it seemed it was over. When Megatron motioned an angry hand that this was not the time, Optimus glanced away in shame before meeting red optics. “I.. can only apologize and make amends. I have been sorely played.”

Considering the two actually fighting would have done incredible damage to this place, Megatron merely stood, plating raised like hackles. His field was still an angry mess, but this was a large improvement to throwing down. “Clearly.” The sarcasm was heavy. A hand motioned as he mocked, “And how did you come to be played?”

Optimus’s mouth thinned to a line. His Autobots spread out, most missing, just how did he explain it? No spy master, no second in command with a tactical gift, no firmly rooted in good moral officers he hadn’t seen in years.. “Starscream.” Was all he said.

Megatron threw up an arm and made a sound of disgust. His expression was unkind. “I’m going to kill him.”

Prowl, standing behind Sideswipe, a blaster in hand at his side, said, “We have wounded.” Sideswipe jumped a good foot only to be eyed warily by the enforcer. 

Megatron turned from Optimus, “Set up triage here in the square. The clinic lacks room for even two.”

Prowl nodded firmly and moved off with purpose. Mechs were starting to appear here and there as they crept out of hiding. He pointed at some, giving firm orders.

Optimus stared after him, realizing just how badly he had been taken advantage of. As Jazz appeared, dragging some sheepish Autobots along with him, he grimaced. When Ironhide and Mirage added some others to the growing collection of Autobot mechs, he felt even worse.

Ratchet settled Renovarus into Soundwave’s arms with a murmured thank you. He shoved past Optimus angrily and pointed at Sideswipe. “You. Are helping. Follow me.” 

With Sideswipe at his heels, the medic gathered all he could from the clinic and went out to the square. Thankfully there were no life critical injuries, but things were messy for a time.

 

 

This left Megatron and Optimus staring at one another. Megatron was decidedly not happy.

“And?” Megatron snapped, at the limits of what little patience he may have had.

Optimus slowly moved over to pick up the blaster that had been taken from him. There was no interest in using it however, and all optics were on him. Looking to his Autobots he says simply, “This is over. We have done them great wrong.”

Jazz’s visor was a firm shade of indigo. “Can say that again.”

Megatron motioned at Jazz. “Get them aiding in the clean up. Make sure Ratchet has what he requires.” To Ironhide he said, “You know what you need to do.”

Both nodded and it didn’t take long before the two big mechs were standing alone. Even Soundwave left them, Renovarus in arm.

There, blaster in hand, hanging at his side, Optimus could only watch Megatron. “Conjunx?”

“Are you really fixated on that?!” The Decepticon snapped, uncomfortable with it.

Optimus actually just shrugged. He wanted to know. It was surreal. Not the strangest thing the two had faced one another over. For the first time in a long time he felt hope. Here was a friend he thought lost to him. He couldn’t even feel jealous for the lover he lost. That had been a very long time ago. “Yes.” What else could he say. 

A ruffle of plates was accompanied by a heavy vent as Megatron pinched the bridge of his nasal ridge. “I.. actually haven’t asked him yet.” Why was he admitting this? He was angry at Optimus! But after a moment he realized he was finding it hard to remain so. Only habit was keeping him there. It took only a touch from Ratchet over the bond to let that anger go. The medic wasn’t even listening in, but the support was there. Unfailingly.

Optimus actually looked bemused, “He will not forget that slip.”

“Of course he won’t.” Megatron snapped. Almost let slip that, that was part of the fun. Instead he said, “He’s perfect.” Maybe that wasn’t what he meant to say either. How did Optimus do this to him? And so easily. He felt a youngling all over again. Ruffled, the big mech settled himself with effort and gave Optimus a dirty look. “Why did you, of all mechs, attack? We don’t even have armed security on the perimeter! You should have known something was wrong the moment you walked right in!”

But Optimus was looking after Soundwave as that one went inside the administration building. “Was that your offspring?” Ratchet’s offspring.

“Optimus!” Megatron almost exploded in exasperation. 

Turning back, Optimus weathered Megatron’s field without real effort. It was all light and sound, not true anger. He could almost hear that same voice shouting Orion at him. “Starscream gave me a wealth of intelligence that was utterly convincing. You were stealing energon from Iacon and using it to create weapons. Training neutrals in combat. That you had the whole of the council under heel.”

Megatron felt the intense urge to pull out Starscream’s spark casing. He promised himself he’d do it when he found the chance, and he was sure Ratchet would show him how to make it really hurt. “The council part of that is true.” He admitted with out hesitation. “They have been undercover Decepticons since before they took office. The rest, however, is a gross falsehood. We produce all the energon Iacon is using these days, and we are most certainly not creating weapons. That was never the goal.”

While surprised at the open honesty, Optimus asked only, “What is the goal?”

“To live in peace of course.”

Optimus stared. Silence grew. “You.” It was almost an accusation.

Megatron looked smug in the face of it. “The persona, Optimus. You have been fighting a persona gone rogue for millions of years. It would never have allowed for peace, but I am not the persona.” He pointed at the prime, still agitated. “Its goals were not mine. Since there is absolutely nothing I could ever do to atone for that, and dying would be the empty gesture of a coward, I decided to face what it had done. Decided to give all that rage and energy into rebuilding. To creating something worthwhile. To finally, after all this time, make my dream of equality come true.”

“That’s why your command group is here. Why they chose to be here. Each incredibly gifted and unfailingly moral. Together we have worked miracles. Together we will, in time, breathe life into Cybertron once more. The only question is whether or not you are going to selfishly remove yourself from it yet again, or actually work towards this goal with us.”

Optimus was left silent, the words heavy in his thoughts. How had this gone from stopping Megatron in raising a new army to being chided by Megatron for not doing his duties as prime? Megatron despised the idea of primes.

Megatron continued, “Everyone here has housing and energon. Everyone. Even the freeloaders who lurk at the edges. Why? Because here we are all free to choose what we wish to be. No one is bound to function, or assigned purpose. This..” He paused to motion at the small circle of buildings in the large cavern. “This is what I always dreamed of. There are no elite, no privileged on high, no ranks and classes. There is only ..us. A community of equals. While small now, we grow every day.”

He paused then, lowering his arms. “Optimus, take over Iacon. Due your duty and rule. The two cities are to much for me to handle, and I can freely admit that. If it weren’t for Prowl I would have had to cut Iacon loose months ago. And don’t you even begin to argue with me.” For Optimus had opened his mouth, “Banish the council and hold public elections, but be there. We all need our Prime.”


	13. Chapter 13

Much later, weary from tending so many wounded, and after a wash, Ratchet accepted Renovarus from Soundwave. “Thank you.” He said gratefully. The mechling’s fingers found their way into Ratchet’s seams where he gripped hard before immediately beginning to sob. “Oh mechling..” He breathed down to the blue helm, and folded the little one into arms and field. Ratchet rocked them both, giving and taking comfort in having Reno close again. He let the tensions of the day flow from him.

Only two mechs had to be carried to the berth for more intensive care. The rest were thankfully various stages of needing only some first aid. No one had died by some small miracle.

It had been a tense, uncomfortable evening. The Autobots had been housed where ever they could, and Megatron had spoken with Optimus at length. Ratchet wasn’t privy to the talk, but he knew Megatron was satisfied. It would be enough. He’d have to talk to Optimus as well. Eventually.

Now that Decepticon was there, folding his arms around both medic and mechling. He seldom showed affection while others were able to see, but in private he had become comfortable with much more.

Leaning into that hold, and to the sound of their whimpering offspring, Ratchet asked, “Conjunx?” Of course he hadn’t forgotten.

Rubbing at Renovarus’ back, Megatron vented for that. Together they soothed the mechling. “Will you?” There was a great deal going on inside that white helm, but this was all he asked.

“Of course.” Came the easy answer.

Megatron couldn’t hide his relief.

Ratchet chose to buffer the mech’s pride and pretended he didn’t notice. “I have.. truly enjoyed our time together.” He admitted. “Which is completely weird if I put any thought into it.”

Megatron snorted. Looking down he caressed the blue helm that lay on Ratchet’s shoulder. 

The medic smiled. “Honestly, I think I fell in love with you the first night we met. As ridiculous as that may sound. You were so serious, and uncomfortable, but also utterly captivating. Our fields.. it was like we were one even then. I never wanted that feeling to go away.” The dark hand on Renovarus’ helm shifted to caress Ratchet’s cheek. The medic leaned into the touch. “Now after everything that’s happened, and it’s dizzying how much really has, I still find I don’t want that feeling to go away.”

Megatron snugged Ratchet in close against him, mindful of the mechling. “Then it never shall.”

 

 

The two might have interfaced if for one issue.. Renovarus wasn’t letting go of his carrier. Ratchet quickly gave in to the mechling and all three recharged together. Come morning, when he still refused to be parted, Ratchet gave in to the inevitable and carried him everywhere. The wounded were checked, and Ratchet sought out Prowl to see if there was any help the enforcer needed. There he found Optimus.

In the administration building, just a couple stories below the habitat he and Megatron shared, Ratchet found Prowl and Optimus together. Prowl was at his standing desk, plugged into it through multiple ports. Mostly around his lower torso and hip area. It left his hands free. Doing that would have given Ratchet a raging processor ache, but Prowl thrived on the data.

Clearly Prowl was doing little work as he talked to the Prime, who was seated near by. Both looked at him as he came in. With Reno on a hip he motioned his free hand to assure. “Everything’s good. Only wanted to stop in instead of using comms.” Prowl didn’t admit it, but he got lonely being by himself all day.

The black and white nodded, asking, “The wounded?”

“Good. There are only two in the clinic, which we desperately need to expand. Everyone else had minor issues and were sent home after care.” Ratchet’s attention was soon pulled to Optimus, who was fixated on Renovarus. Reno was looking back at him, blue optics serious as he worked at the pacifier in his mouth.

Prowl thanked him for his information and added that to everything else he was working on.

“What is this?” Optimus asked, motioning to the pacifier.

Ratchet was still kind of mad at the prime, but said, “Human invention. A pacifier. Does a wonderful job of keeping them quiet.”

Optimus found himself smiling, “We were among them so briefly, and yet they have changed us so easily.”

“They sure have some good ideas.” Ratchet agreed.

“May I know his designation?” Optimus asked quietly.

Ratchet looked at him and turned around so that the mechling was closer to Optimus. “Renovarus. I’d let you take him, but he won’t let go today.” Tiny hands were still firmly gripped to plating.

Optimus thought about this, and said, “Yesterday had to be difficult for him.” Both sire and carrier were incensed. “You are angry with me.” Didn’t mean about only the day before. He didn’t mind Prowl was overhearing. 

“Yes.” Ratchet admitted with little hesitation. “You left.” He was careful to keep his field calm for the mechling.

Optimus straightened some, feeling the need to justify himself. “I felt..”

It was Prowl who said, his voice a hushed blade that cut, “You were wrong.” He didn’t mean to be unkind, but neither did he pull the punch.

Ratchet wasn’t surprised. Prowl, even back on Earth, had followed Optimus’ order, but told the medic he didn’t agree with it. Now he wasn’t second in command anymore, perhaps not even an Autobot, and he could speak his mind.

The prime vented heavily, and continued to look at Renovarus instead of the adults. He nudged a small ped with a knuckle and was rewarded with some squirming. Reno was smiling behind that pacifier. How could a mechling not respond positively to the kind spark of a prime? It really didn’t take much for Optimus to coax Reno into freeing his death grip on Ratchet, and without a word the medic handed the mechling over.

He’d never held one before, and settled Reno against his hood. “Hello, Renovarus.” There was an almost innocent delight in having the tiny mech in his arms. For his part Reno explored some of the bright pieces of the prime’s plating, and his face. The prime was captivated.

This gave Ratchet a chance to stretch. He rubbed some spots that were aching due to small hands. Prowl asked, << You alright? >>

Ratchet looked back and nodded, << He’s been clinging to me since last night. Had to recharge sitting up, and couldn’t even use the wash rack. >> A bit grumpy about it too.

Prowl chuckled, wings fanning gently.

Optimus said, “He is so quiet.”

Ratchet shrugged, looking back to the prime, “So was Megatron. I knew him when he was still a youngling. You could barely get a word out of the mech.”

Prowl said, “I knew Optimus knew Megatron early on, but not you.”

Ratchet nodded, hands on hips. “I met him first I think. He couldn’t have been more than fifty. There’s a lot I don’t know about Megatron and Optimus though.”

With tiny hands on his face, Optimus admitted, “We met when he was fighting in the Pit of Kaon.”

“Then much later.” Ratchet shrugged. “We’d known one another years before he came to me after getting that stupid Pit armor.” The memory was not a pleasant one. “He asked me to help because who ever had installed it had purposely done it improperly. Someone wanted him to die. The next time I saw him was when Optimus came and asked me to save him.” Ratchet lowered his face and rubbed at the point his chevron met his brow. “I’m probably responsible for making the whole war possible.”

~ What is happening? ~ The firm question came with a flood of mixed emotions. Concern, possessiveness, uncertain if he should be getting involved…

~ I’m with the Prime. It’s okay. ~ Ratchet sent assurances. ~ Talking about your sexy aft. About when I helped you with that armor you’d been forced into for the Pits. ~

Megatron sent the semblance of a snort through the link, and returned to what he had been doing - assured that all was well.

“Ratchet?” Optimus asked, concerned. “You were elsewhere.” The oh so stoic prime then blew a raspberry onto the mechling’s shoulder. It shocked everyone honestly, and the mechling exploded into giggles. Prime deftly kept the pacifier from hitting the floor.

He motioned a hand to assure once he’d regained his composure, “Megatron.” Ratchet explained. 

Prowl, wings working behind him, chuckled, “Get Ratchet upset and you almost immediately have a Decepticon warlord to deal with.”

Ratchet rolled his optics, but it was true just the same. He shrugged. Didn’t want to explain intensely personal issues concerning Megatron. Megatron was uncomfortable with his feelings, warming to the idea of them only slowly. Still getting used to the fact Ratchet had absolutely no interest in cutting all his critical energon lines while he recharged. That Ratchet actually liked having him around. The trust was building. 

“He cares about you a great deal.” While his attention was on playing with Renovarus, his words were for Ratchet. Optimus knew Megatron could love, he had felt it, but the persona had soured many memories over the years. It was hard to justify the gladiator with the warlord, and the mech who was here now. Still he had hope in trying to pick up a badly bruised friendship and make it whole.

Ratchet chuckled, “He’s easing into it.”

Prowl disagreed, if quietly. “More like having hit a wall at top speed and now he’s trying to figure out how to stand again.”

It made Ratchet bark a laugh, “I am so never telling him that.”

Prowl inclined his head gracefully. “Thank you. I would like to continue functioning for a time longer.”

Meanwhile the ever so cool and dignified prime was teaching Renovarus how to raspberry. Ratchet facepalmed.

The tremble of the structure they were in surprised them all. Everything began to rattle and shake. Ratchet grabbed for Prowl, who was unplugging himself from the desk’s systems. Out in the circle mechs were exclaiming in fear, their frightened voices distant. 

Optimus shielded Renovarus as debris came down from the ceiling. “We must exit.” He surged to his feet and herded the two mechs with him. While it was difficult to walk, Prowl and Ratchet held on to one another as they staggered from the administration building. Not that outside was much better, due to being underground, but the huge cavern held. Some of the passageways did not. As the shaking seemed to go on forever, long minutes worth, there came a tremendous roar of collapse. Dust billowed out of a side tunnel, accompanied by screams of terror and pain. Ratchet’s spark twisted.

In his arms Prowl gasped in pain, optics widening. “..Jazz.”

“He..” Ratchet couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“Alive.” Prowl gasped out, “But heavily damaged. As are many others.” Ratchet helped ease the enforcer to the floor. The comms were alive but Prowl wasn’t there among the voices. That only intensified the fear among the speakers.

As quickly as it began there was soon no shaking at all.

Optimus handed Renovarus to Ratchet. “Stay. We shall bring the wounded to you.”

~ Situation. ~ That was not a request.

~ There’s been a collapse of one of the housing tunnels. Uraya branch. No idea how bad. The main circle is clear, but Prowl is down. Jazz is badly injured, we don’t know where. I’ll try and get Prowl up. Optimus is already getting mechs organized on this end. ~ Ratchet didn’t even snark about it. So wanted to ask what had happened since quakes weren’t known here due to all the efforts made in keeping the mines stable. Now was not the time for that though. 

~ Get Prowl moving. I’m caught behind the collapse. ~ Megatron needed Prowl.

~ On it. ~ Ratchet gripped Prowl’s arm with his free hand. He had the mechling in his other arm. “Prowl.. You can’t focus on Jazz right now. Look at me.” Prowl’s optics were wide and pale, but he lifted them for the medic’s sharp tone. It earned the enforcer a rough shake. “Prowl!”

Optics cycled and he focused on Ratchet. There was a firm nod and the two rose to their peds. Ratchet helped Prowl to the administration building, which thankfully still stood. Had to give it to the constructicons, they did good work. With Prowl plugging himself back into the station, his voice joining the din through comms, Ratchet went to the clinic. The two mechs there were terrified, but he calmed them quickly. Got the pouch for Renovarus in place so that his hands would be free. There’d soon be a lot of injured out side. 

Reno was making distressed engine noises against his hood, and the medic soothed him as he checked the berth. It’d taken a little damage, but nothing that would take it off line.

The wounded began pouring in. The only medic at first, Ratchet conscripted Autobots and got them helping. They were used to this. Thankfully First Aid appeared. He had come with Optimus. The wounded were laid out in neat rows according to injury. It was hours before he saw anyone else. Unlike the aborted attack of the day before there were casualties from the collapse. Over a dozen. He’d ordered the dead laid out in the administration building upper floors.

Ratchet was starting to feel an ache behind his optics, Renovarus a constant source of discomfort, not that he blamed the mechling, when suddenly Megatron was there. Scuffed, filthy, but whole. “Let me have him.”

Ratchet nodded and unclipped the chassis hugging pack that allowed him to carry the mechling. Mech and all were handed up to Megatron. It took some effort to get the pack in place around the bigger Decepticon, pretty much just around his neck and under one arm because the straps weren’t long enough. Soon Megatron was striding off again to deal with more issues. The bond was a steady thing, and Ratchet was sent comfort through it.

He smiled for the touch and returned to work.

 

Jazz had been found pretty early on, his hips and legs partially crushed by the fall of a wall. He was now stable, and in medical stasis until such a time as proper repair could be done on him. Nor was he the only one. There were several in stasis. Mirage hadn’t been hurt badly, and was with Prowl, keeping the enforcer going. Ironhide had been with Megatron, so while dirty he’d taken no harm.

Laserbeak was perched near by as Ratchet worked. He found it comforting, knowing that Soundwave was making sure he stayed well. 

As Ratchet sank down to sit in about the only clear spot in the area to rest, he put his back against the clinic wall and stretched his legs. It had been years since he had to deal with triage such as this, and his aching body was protesting it. Made Ratchet feel old.

Soundwave was somehow there, offering him an energon cube. Not that the Decepticon had been stealthy. That’s just how tired Ratchet was. “Thanks.” Ratchet gave, spark felt, and accepted the cube.

They had formed a solid friendship over the year they had been here. Ratchet didn’t care that Soundwave almost never spoke. Didn’t even mind if Soundwave needed to be in his helm. The Decepticon never did it unless it was absolutely necessary, which had been pretty much never. At most Ratchet had felt the light touch just to discover his location. He never minded it because he knew the other was trustworthy, and understood very well what the gift cost Soundwave. Most of their communications were through fields, which Soundwave used to inquire about his well being. Ratchet smiled up at him. “I’m fine. Tired, but fine.”

There was a nod and the Decepticon moved away. He was showing signs he’d been in the damaged areas, his normally glossy black now a streaked and grainy gray. Ravage trotted along side, but Laserbeak remained on her perch.

 

 

Ratchet hadn’t even realize he nodded off until his awareness was caught by another. Renovarus burbled suddenly for the shift in spark and he looked down. His offspring patted at his chin, unable to reach higher. There was a voice in the background. Almost absently he pulled that tiny hand away. He was tired.

“…Megatron?”

Optimus Prime was standing near him. Trying to pull him from his thoughts. A hot wind tugged at them both. They were standing on the ruins of a building to look down into a crevice that chased a jagged pattern towards the horizon. Even as they stood there the remains of another structure of old Kaon slid ponderously down into the depths. There was a fire below, weak and flickering.

Looking over he found the prime anxious over the view. With good reason. But when Optimus met his gaze there was shock. “Megatron.. your optics.”

A simple nod for that. “Ratchet is with me.” Matter of fact. Red optics with their blue centers swept back out over the terrain. There were three of them now, Prowl had told him. Three huge fault lines that ran down deep into Cybertron’s core. This one was the cause of the quake, but it wasn’t too close to New Kaon. Iacon had not been so lucky. Much of the rebuilding city was now missing, along with all its people. The third had opened in an uninhabited area thankfully. A sick dread curled through Ratchet’s side of the link, and Megatron did nothing to stop it.

Optimus was looking at him strangely. “A spark bond does not do that, Megatron.” Bonds could be close, but this, this was something unknown.

Megatron smirked, “Tell that to Ratchet. Focus, Optimus.” It was almost a frustrated tone, never mind the intense pride he found he had for the medic’s abilities. “You said the matrix was active.” 

Troubled by more than the bond, Optimus nodded. “Nothing.. concise. Hints, glimpses. Somewhere down there that is important. Something in need of repair.”

Feeling the medic coding stir, and knowing it was nothing of his own, Megatron nodded. “Then we shall go down and make repairs.” Like it were just that easy. 

 

 

Between repairs of mechs and clearing of the fallen tunnel, the wake had been delayed longer than anyone wanted. The bodies had been lain to rest in one of the deep mining tunnels set aside for that, but the wake itself was in the city circle. Most everyone was there. Together they mourned those they had lost, as well as those from Iacon. Their beleaguered population knocked down by a large percentage in one fell event. 

The next day most of the population would be heading to Iacon to help find survivors. New Kaon would be growing yet again. 

For now everyone was in the circle, including the wounded. The occasion was somber, small groups gathered around for mutual support. Many were still in stasis, their losses, while temporary, were very much felt too.

Optimus spoke first, as the prime, his rich voice spreading out over the gathering with words of comfort. He didn’t speak long however. What word could fill this void? Megatron too spoke, far more briefly, and he let the amicas and conjunx of the lost do the speaking.

Some couple barely speak at all, but one by one the stories of the lost came forward so that all could know them.

Ratchet sat near Prowl and Mirage, Renovarus between his legs. The little one was growing impatient, but was thankfully not being loud. He proved a good distraction for the Praxian, who seemed unable to get around Jazz being in stasis. He also noticed energex start going around, if quietly, and snagged a cube. This was immediately passed to Prowl, who blinked at it in surprise. He and Mirage shared the drink.

When the speeches were over, and the mood shifting for drink, Ratchet picked up the mechling and took him inside. He felt, and found, Megatron quickly on his heels. It wouldn’t be a quiet evening since they literally lived a couple stories above the growing party, but they at least didn’t have to be in it.

Optimus watched them go,

 

 

“What do you mean I’m not going with you?” Ratchet spoke loudly, angrily, and without fear up at Megatron. His engine pitched down to further that tone.

“This is not up for discussion.” Megatron meant to win this fight. His field showed that clearly. There was a determination Ratchet didn’t often feel from the Decepticon in regards to him. That rare insistence was what would subconsciously work against the medic. “You must stay for Renovarus. We are done with this.”

Ratchet was sure determined to try though. “I’m the only medic you have!” Kind of forgetting First Aid in his ire.

Megatron leveled a finger in front of the other. “No, you aren’t. You are, however, the only carrier Renovarus has. Soundwave must go with us.” Meaning no babysitter that wasn’t the hurting Prowl and Mirage.

Their fields shoved at one another out of frustration more than anything else. Ratchet already knew he’d lost. He was fighting to fight. Megatron knew it too. Even as their fields were almost electric with ire, the big mech caressed Ratchet’s face with a thumb. “For me?”

The Decepticon sure knew how to manipulate him. Never mind Ratchet knew he was loved. “You slagger!” He pushed at the white chest, getting himself absolutely no where. He’d have to be Optimus to get Megatron to move with just a push. Ratchet found himself effortlessly pulled back close and kissed for good measure. Damn him.

Mirage looked over to Prowl and mused, << I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ratchet fold that hard. >>

Prowl managed to stop the smile he was feeling from showing and merely shrugged. It was the first smile he’d had in a few days. Jazz was still in medical stasis. It make his spark ache in longing. This bothered the Praxian a good deal. Why couldn’t he deal with this? He cradled Renovarus against his hood, his quiet spark not sharing his pain. The mechling was in recharge.

Mirage slid an arm around him to offer comfort. << Jazz is okay. We both know the only reason he’s in stasis is because he’d go absolutely crazy having to lay on a berth for days. >>

That really did little for Prowl’s state of mind. He watched as Ratchet stalked away and Megatron looked satisfied.


	14. Chapter 14

Optimus found him in his workshop. It wasn’t much of one. Just a little room where he could tinker in peace. Ratchet never had considered himself an inventor, but he still had ideas and liked to create. This room also gave him a place he could get some privacy. It’d been Megatron’s idea, and he was grateful for it. Right now he was nursing a replicator through some needed parts for the wounded. He’d made it too, the replicator, but it wasn’t happy with the current work load. Then again, neither was he.

Not that there was much peace as Optimus came to be framed in the doorway. “What do you want?” He snapped, still irate from the talk with Megatron.

Well experienced in Ratchet dealings, Optimus simply closed the door behind him and pulled over the room’s one spare chair to sink down into it. It wasn’t made for a mech his size, so the affect was almost comical. It protested the weight. “Ratchet...”

Red hands went up immediately. His plating flared a little. “No. I don’t care. Whatever it is. Go away. I’m not CMO anymore.” Ratchet almost went on, but stopped himself. Laying guilt trips wouldn’t help.

Optimus waited the rush of words out, then simply laid a large hand on Ratchet’s pauldron.

Ratchet rubbed at his face, dragging fingers down in a weary manner. He opened his mouth to speak..

The door opened. Without anything said at all Megatron was there, looming behind the prime. His field was pulled in, but none the less agitated. Where Optimus was sitting he got a front row seat. Apparently Ratchet fighting his own battles only applied to mechs not Optimus.

Optimus gave Ratchet a disapproving look.

The medic stared a moment and then simply began to laugh. Bitterly. So hard he found it hard to stop. “You.. You think I have control over him? Megatron? That I’d call him here? To protect against you?!”

Megatron found it humorous as well, but not because Ratchet was laughing. “He must have missed us arguing earlier.” His voice was a low, dangerous thing. His engine echoed it with a growl. “So, just why are you stressing my medic, Prime?”

Optimus didn’t like the sound of that at all. His medic? No, MY medic. But he kept that thought to himself. Kept his own engine from growling back. The two fields around him were agitated things. Uncomfortable to experience. Quiet a moment to sort his words, the mech finally admitted, “I came to ask of the bond.” A glance up and back to the warlord behind him and Optimus added, “What I experienced was not in any way a normal spark bond.”

Megatron leaned down, unable to stop himself. He so did love needling Optimus, “Jealous?” The big mech purred this into the prime’s audios. It was like being mocked for something Megatron had stolen right out from under Optimus. More than once even. My medic.

“Stop it.” Ratchet snapped at the Decepticon, immediately rising to the prime’s defense. “That’s a line you don’t have to step over and you know it.”

Optimus was surprised when it got Megatron to pull away. There was a snort of disdain, but Megatron merely folded his arms and let himself be chided. It was more than a little surreal. But Megatron had won the fight about Ratchet going with below, so he could be generous in other things.

Still Megatron said, “I’m also curious, Ratchet, so explain.”

Ratchet dropped his helm to a hand and rubbed at the base of his chevron. This so wasn’t fair. Two mechs he loved dearly paired against him. Finally he admitted, “I don’t know.” Which was the truth.

Megatron prompted, motioning a hand, “But you have ideas.” Couldn’t hide from a bond.

Optimus glanced back, but then nodded. “Please, Ratchet?”

The medic shrugged, and put his elbows on the workbench to rub at his face. He had ideas, sure, but this was an aspect of himself, and his history, that he had never spoken of to anyone before. Not even hinted of. He’d have to tell it all too. Otherwise none of it would really make sense.

He struggled with the emotions and Megatron moved. Ratchet and Prime watched the Decepticon plant himself near Ratchet so that he could buffer the other through fields. Optimus was truly surprised all over again, and Ratchet leaned into it for all they didn’t touch. “There’s.. this training that used to be available.” He began, not certain how to explain. “It taught you to control your electromagnetic field. How to be clear and concise so that you could help ease the troubles of others. Reduce stress. That kind of thing. I thought it would make me a better medic. If I could better read fields, better control my own, I could help mechs who couldn’t tell me what was wrong.”

Ratchet motioned a hand, “Sure you can jack in, but the spark doesn’t give read outs, or diagnostics. Most times it’s all guess work.” He was rambling and made himself stop. Resting back in his seat, he put himself closer to Megatron and the comfort there. “But I started noticing how shallow the training was. Like it only scratched the surface of what was possible. And you know how I get when I get told to stop.” Wry that. Optimus even smiled. “They discouraged me of course, but I just had to know. While I played along in public, in secret I was pushing the limits.”

Stopping there, he sighed, venting. It took him a moment before he admitted. “I pushed too hard.” The words were heavy and many layered, but he couldn’t explain it better than that. It was too complicated. Ratchet kept it simple mostly for his own benefit. “I changed my own spark. I gave myself a sigma ability.”

Only then did the big mechs around him shift, in surprise. Neither had considered such a thing possible. Nor should it have been.

“Probably made other changes too, but slag if I know. That’s got to be why our bond is different. I forced it on Megatron in saving him.” No, he wasn’t admitting everything here. Ratchet did know at least one change made that wasn’t being told of. He motioned to his own hood. “When a spark starts to gut you can sometimes bring it back by sharing with it. ...but I didn’t have any time. Couldn’t let the energies slowly mingle. They were beating down the door. So I gathered everything I had and forced it inside of him. I made his spark take the energy.” The well of guilt he felt over forcing the bond brought him to stop. Didn’t even try to hide it, allowing Optimus to feel through fields what Megatron felt through the bond. It brought the Decepticon to shift closer. To slide an arm over his shoulder and over his hood to pull Ratchet close. He had been forgiven. Ratchet clung to that emotion. “I didn’t know it would make a bond.”

Optimus didn’t share what he was thinking, but his expression alone said that he was unsettled. “Your sigma ability?”

Ratchet nodded, trying for calm. He gripped the black hand against his hood before saying, “The humans call it empathy. We don’t have a word for it. It’s.. it’s kind of like Soundwave’s telepathy, but not as strong. I can sense what others are feeling, even if they are hiding their fields. Not thoughts. Just emotions.”

“You have used it against me.” Optimus stated, disapproving.

Ratchet didn’t deny it, and nodded. “Once. Just days ago. I can’t control minds, Optimus, but I could defuse your focus to get you to listen to me. There are civilians here! What did you expect me to do? Just let you start shooting mechs because you thought they were Decepticons?” The last was snapped.

Optimus lifted a hand to still the medic. “Enough. I know I was wrong.” The hand dropped and an uncomfortable silence grew between them. Shooting before confirming wasn’t how Optimus worked at all. Never mind he hadn’t pulled a trigger, nor would he have, he took responsibility just the same.

Megatron broke it. “How do we manage the fusion?”

“No idea.” Ratchet admitted, resting his helm back against the other. 

“Fusion?” Optimus asked.

“When the blue appears in my optics and Ratchet is with me.” Megatron explained. “We.. become something more than we are separately. I call it fusion because that’s what it feels like. We merge.” He paused and then said, “The first was with Zeta.”

Ratchet didn’t want to talk about that and looked away. Megatron kept him there or he would have fled. Trapped between Megatron and Optimus, the medic said, “It happens when I recharge. I really don’t know any more than that. Only when I recharge.” He paused, frowning. “Except once.” That made him crane his head back at Megatron. “On earth.. I was being pummeled by a Decepticon, dazed.. I couldn’t do anything. And then suddenly I could.” Ratchet shifted in his chair, trapped under that black hand. “That was you.” Sudden understanding dawned.

“You pulled me there.” Megatron admitted.

Horrified, knowing what it cost Megatron, he tore his gaze away and put it firmly on nothing of importance. “You almost died.” Ratchet whispered. Optimus had taken advantage of the strange affect on Megatron and had shot him.

This only amused Megatron. Death was not something he feared. “You and Soundwave ensured that didn’t happen.” He shifted his hand to caress Ratchet’s chin and cheek. Fingertips were soon gliding down over the cables of his throat. “And when I descend into the depths you will be there whenever I have need.” It wasn’t a demand, but a reminder that Ratchet didn’t physically have to go with to be there to help.

For Optimus the scene was uncomfortable. The love there. And the knowledge that Megatron had calculated it acceptable that he see it.

Ratchet needed that reminder. He turned somewhat, to sit sidelong in the chair, so he could better hold to Megatron. Tug at him. Megatron sank down to one knee and gathered the medic in close. Ratchet was feeling small, vulnerable. Exposed. Megatron merely looked at Optimus like he were daring the prime to say something.

Optimus rose from his small seat and took his leave of the pair. He wondered at the jealousy he felt.

Only once Optimus was gone did Ratchet smack Megatron. “You’re an aft.” But he sure didn’t try to leave that firm hold. 

The mech’s engine all but purred, for he felt intense satisfaction in it all. Yet he wasn’t really as cruel as he was playing for the Prime. Megatron took the hand that had struck him and gently pulled it away from his hood. He spread his fingers, and without any further urging Ratchet slowly spread his too. Red against black. Once there Megatron caressed the other’s palm and fingers with light touches. A medic’s hands were sensitive things. When Ratchet gave a shaky vent he knew it was working. With a careful patience he didn’t often display the Decepticon coaxed Ratchet into relaxing.

Later, when Megatron pulled him to the floor with the firm intent of interfacing all the thoughts out of his head, Ratchet was most grateful.

 

 

Days later, having taken what felt far too long to prepare, Megatron stood at the edge of the great crevice. Not merely a spot overlooking, but at the edge. Hot winds buffeted him and he spread his plating to feel the heat all the better. It flowed against his internals and made him smirk. It felt good, but not as good as certain red hands.

“This ain’t gonna be easy.” Ironhide groused at his side, peering down.

“Nothing worth having ever is.” Megatron told him simply, and lead the way by dropping down into the crevice. They were all wearing heavy packs since subspace wasn’t enough to carry everything they needed. The group was relatively small, but none the less powerful. Optimus, Megatron, Ironhide, Wheeljack, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, First Aid, Soundwave, and Ravage. 

The first day was spent carefully lowering themselves down through the multiple levels that made up Cybertron. The crevice had cut through deep, yet hadn’t gone all the way to the core. Parts of it were still burning. Others were impossible to move through for chemical spill. Finally they reached the bottom.

The road they stood on hadn’t seen the sun in many millions of years. The council of old had ordered a level built above when it became clear that Cybertron was too small for its growing population. Then a level was built over that, and another over that.. as time passed the past of Cybertron had been carefully buried. Quite literally. Those that had been trapped in that past buried with it. Old shops, habitats, places of worship.. it was all here. Including a few, long gray bodies nearly turned to piles of rust. Disfigured, crumbling and abandoned.

“Prime.” Megatron said as he looked around. This had been buried long before his time, or that of anyone here. “Which direction?” Now it was time for the matrix to show the way.

Optimus was looking into a broken shop window. There was nothing to see, the building emptied eons ago. It was strange to see that the layout was something one could have been found anywhere on Cybetron’s surface before the war. Did they ever change? But he had heard the question and pointed.

Megatron resisted the urge to snap. Optimus always brought out the worst in him these days. He had brought his canon and also denied himself the urge to blast through the shop Optimus was looking in, because that’s where he had pointed.

Instead Megatron found an alley not far away. It was partially filled with debris from the collapse, but he could manage. Glitchmice raced from his peds as he set them down in the dark recesses behind the shop. He gave them no mind at all. Ravage slipped past him, ignoring them too. Together they explored and found another roadway. One in total darkness.

Biolights could be glimpsed before headlights came on. Together the group worked their way down rubble covered pavement. Sometimes over the rubble itself. It would have been faster to drive, but the roads weren’t clear enough for that. Buildings had slumped forward to form huge piles of debris, and the upper level was found to often collapse down. They spent hours climbing carefully over what had once been a fine road.

The atmosphere was oppressive. Walking through a dead world, of which only the ghosts remained to taunt them.

For two days they made their way through, pausing only rarely for rest. Their path took them even through buildings on occasion, but for the most part they remained on the road. Megatron wasn’t the only one who could tell that the group was being stalked. Ironhide bristled with it, and the twins grew more animated.

When Soundwave went still at an intersection somewhere on the third day, Megatron stopped dead to look at him. The Autobots, not as familiar with the mech hesitated. Soundwave played a sound file from earth. The little voice was entirely too eerie considering the location. “They’re here.”

Before anyone could ask silvery forms leapt from the darkness. The group was ready, almost eager. The cybercats were quick, large, and dangerous, but they stood little chance. With First Aid at the center, the others protected the medic and made short work of the pride.

Ironhide gave Soundwave a dirty look. “Earth movie quotes? Really?” The black mech merely shrugged.

Megatron gripped Ironhide’s pauldron. “Leave him be. Come. This won’t be the only danger.” Nor was it. Once First Aid was done patching a few things, the group continued on.

Megatron had so missed combat. The last several years had seen none at all. To the point it now felt strange to wear the canon. He knew he wouldn’t regret taking it.

They walked in darkness. Picking their path carefully due to collapse and other issues. Other creatures nipped at their heels and harried them along their way. While wary and tense, they had managed to hold themselves together for days.

In a way the stress was good because it kept Megatron from needling at Optimus. Having something to focus on, namely the danger of being constantly attacked, was allowing the Decepticon to ease back on that internal need to give Optimus scrap, and finally allowing him to start letting go of his sense of betrayal. 

Optimus had been weathering it with patience, but he was no less grateful when things began improving. They’d butted heads a few times over command issues, yet managed to find compromise. Optimus noticed a certain blue in red optics during many of those compromises. Ratchet more often than naught took Optimus’ side he noticed.

When they came to an area that had illumination, all were surprised. It was Ravage who said, “There’s trouble.” The walls became more streamlined and showed far better repair. Not that they were newer, no. This was a remnant of the long, lost golden area of the thirteen primes. Walls gleamed even under their layer of grime. Lights grew stronger the further they pressed in. The problem was the webbing that grew more and more prevalent as they ventured further.

“What is it?” Optimus asked, crouching down to touch a wad of the stuff. It was old, covered in dirt, so it didn’t stick to him.

Wheeljack came to lean around him, peering. “Webbing. Old. The new stuff is sticky, so be careful. Like industrial glue. Don’t underestimate it.”

When Optimus pulled the mass apart and found a dead scraplet he was disturbed.

There were other scraplets openly hanging dead in spreads of old webbing, as well as other creatures. There was no real surprise then that later Soundwave warned them again of attack. With a tiny creak of wall panels, the side of a building strained and then burst open. Thanks to Soundwave most of the group was shooting, and dodging, before the pieces of that wall hit the ground.

The situation was surreal. Headlights swinging wildly around, laser blast traceries giving everything a strobbing affect, and the biolights of a huge mechaspider pushing into view.

The initial battle lasted only moments. Considering the group Megatron and Optimus had put together the spider was removed of several limbs and shot through. The problem came in the big spider’s brood. As the broodmother fell in a wet mess to the floor, thousands of arachnids came swarming out of every location to swamp the mechs in small bodies and thousands of hooked limbs.

Sunstreaker shouted in pain and started crushing the bodies climbing over him. For once in his life he wasn’t thinking about his paint job. Sideswipe was there, helping, pulling off rounded forms and crushing them in his hands.

It became a chaotic mess of shouts and squelches and cries of pain. Megatron’s fusion canon obliterated whole swaths of the things as he aimed away from the group.

Everyone had bites, and were covered in ichor, but the only real injury was Sideswipe. For a moment after the remaining arachnids had fled there was silence. Ichor dripped off mechs and they vented hard to cool, fans distressingly loud with nothing else going on. Fans that splattered more gore. Then Sideswipe cried out, as battle high faded, gripping his forearm.

First Aid was there, hands working over the limb, scanning. “He’s been injected with something..” Whatever it was worked fast as well. The medic began calm, then grew more frantic as the unknown venom began to eat the limb from the inside out. For all he’d turned off Sideswipe’s pain, First Aid couldn’t stop the spread.

Then Megatron was there, leaning over and around him. Huge fingers found releases and pried up plating to expose the elbow joint. He pulled pins, crimped off cables, and broke connections before tossing the limb to one side. As if he had done this a thousand times before. “The arm can be replaced, First Aid. Sideswipe can’t.”

The medic looked up into red optics with their blue specks and swore he heard Ratchet instead of Megatron.

After some minor repairs to everyone, the group pressed on. All were filthy by this point, ichor drying on and under plating, leaving them all uncomfortable. There was nothing here by which to clean themselves though, so they simply moved on.

By the end of another long and uncomfortable day they found themselves at a gateway. It loomed above them all, making even the Prime and Megatron look small. In the center of the door was an oval with a hand print on it.

Wheeljack said, “I.. could look for a panel to hack?”

Optimus shook his head. “I believe.. there will be no need for that.” Moving forward he placed his hand against that oval. He literally had to stand on the front of his peds and reach up, like a mechling, but the panel lit for his touch and the doors opened.

Megatron caught him absently, to steady, having moved close to lift him, but that wasn’t needed. Together they stood close as they found themselves looking at a room untouched by time. It was pristine. There was an empty fountain in the middle of the chamber, benches all around, and statues of gorgeous mechs lined the walls. On the far side was an archway, but they could see little of the other room from where they stood. “This is it.” Optimus murmured, awed.

“This.” Megatron asked back, dubious. “A room.” Others were moving around them, choosing to explore. Soundwave went to the far side to get a look, Ravage padding off to disappear from view.

“More.” The black mech intoned.

For all its size, the antichamber was relatively small. The chamber beyond dwarfed it. A huge expanse with an ornately carved domed ceiling made to look like the Cybertronian night sky. Stars and moons, all connected in the forms of constellations. Fanciful mechs were among those stars, all in various poses, holding weapons. In the very center, holding a glowing orb, was a beautiful mech who’s wings spread out around him. No could miss that the Autobot symbol was a poor representation of his face. He somehow appeared kind instead of cold.

“Primus.” Optimus breathed, and it wasn’t a swear. It was recognition.

Below was a huge, empty shaft leading down into darkness. Built over it was a generous ledge that ran the circumference of the room, and four bridges that lead out to a platform in the center. On that platform was a small dais, over which floated a glowing orb.

Optimus gasped at it. “The Well.” He said, stunned.

Megatron looked at him sharply. “What?”

“This is the Well of Allsparks.”

“That’s a myth.” Megatron insisted, engine rumbling, yet not all that sure of it at the same time.

Optimus moved forward to pace across the bridge before him. While he glanced down into the dark depths, he gave most his focus to the orb hovering in the middle. It was about the size of his chest. The thing hummed softly, but did nothing else. Unlike the rest of the chamber, the orb wasn’t even glossy. A dull, milky white. Almost more giant ping pong ball than anythign else.

Megatron was soon at his side, frowning at the orb. His field was a mess of emotion he tried to contain. “What is it?” He asked quietly. There was a majesty to this place he could not deny. Opulent he’d known as a gladiator during the peek of his career. Gaudy he’d seen all too often over the years, but this.. this was something else entirely. The grand architect of Cybertron at its best.

Optimus looked at the Decepticon and smiled. It was an expression Megatron had not seen since before the war. Since before Orion had become Optimus. The simple joy there made Megatron’s spark ache. The field behind it radiated warmth. Ratchet gave him only comfort for it through the link. Understanding. There had been love between them once. A long long soured. Optimus told him, “This is the spark of Cybertron.”

Wheeljack noted, “It doesn’t look like a spark.”

Optimus nods, “It is hurting. Dying. We must repair the machinery here.”

“What machinery?” Ironhide asked. The whole room was bare except for the ceiling. This area didn’t even have statues. 

It took them more than an hour to find the access. Their ped steps strangely muted on the materials here. A rectangle almost invisible against the rest of the flooring. Soundwave hacked the control panel near it, and that rectangle dropped gently down to become a ramp to a lower level. It was dark below, and little could be seen.

Some tweaking by Soundwave brought the light levels up to chase that darkness away. While much was beyond their view, the ancient machinery there became visible. And from what they could see there were areas that required repair, but most of the workings were filthy. It was a sharp contrast to the immaculate appearance of above. Dark purplish gray muck everywhere. Clogging intakes and fixing moving components in place.

Wheeljack hesitated, “Not sure I know how to repair this.”

Optimus came down the ramp slowly, touching the ceiling to keep his helm from bumping. The ceiling was low for a mech his size. “You certainly know how to clean.” He pointed out. “Let us begin there.”

Not that it was that easy. They hadn’t brought the means to clean anything this size, much less themselves. But they found the reason for the muck in the machinery, and began to explore the rest of the area. There was a hole in the outside paneling that was allowing in some kind of over wash. A basin of sorts lay beyond and when levels rose, the nasty liquid spilled into the inner workings of the Well. No one bothered to even scan the stuff. It was waste, pure and simple.

It took long days to find a source of liquid that could be refined into solvent. More days to refine, and then weeks to clean. But they cleaned themselves first.

Wheeljack and First Aid made repairs to the broken machinery while the rest scrubbed. The twins complained non stop, but that didn’t make them work any less hard. Avoiding work meant staying down here longer.

During the work Optimus often told them stories of the Well. How mechs had once pilgrimages here to ask the Well for sparklings. Requests often answered. That had been a very long time ago, however. So long that only Alpha Trion had remained to know of it, and to tell a young archivist.

Megatron avoided the spark in the middle of the room as much as he possibly could. To the point he recharged down in the wet of the level below, preferring that to the hum all could feel.

They were nearing the end of the whole affair, when Optimus joined him one night. All were exhausted, wanting it done, wanting to go home, and pushing hard for that. Optimus had firmly called a rest. Now he settled down to the damp floor near Megatron. The Decepticon was stretched out on his side. “Why are you avoiding the spark?” Asked quietly.

Megatron hadn’t onlined his optics when Optimus came near, but now he did with a vented sigh. There was a moment of quiet as he gathered his thoughts. “Ratchet.”

Optimus tilted his helm. “Ratchet?” No, he didn’t get it.

A black hand was rubbed down his pale face. “He’s a medic who’s also empathic, Optimus. Use your processor for once.” Megatron didn’t mean to snap, and stopped himself.

Feeling that shift in field, Optimus waited. He touched Megatron’s arm to show he wasn’t upset. The trip had done wonders for their relationship. He for one, very much enjoyed finding his old friend still there, lurking behind red optics.

“When he’s with me I can feel the spark. It’s in pain, Optimus. A lot of it. That sets off all of Ratchet’s medical protocols. He’s.. tried to tell me what it’s like in the past, but… you can’t understand it until it takes you. It consumes all that you are. Like it destroys who you are to make you only what you are. Medic.” Which also made the Decepticon angry. Megatron hated the idea a mech wouldn’t be what he wished, and was limited to the function created before awakening. “I would tear that from him if I were able. Free him.”

Primus set Protocols were what they were called. Medics weren’t the only ones to have them. Optimus looked down, understanding. “During the war we had to assign warriors to Ratchet not to simply protect him from Decepticons, but to protect him from himself. I, myself, have carried him physically from situations where he could not control the protocols. I am glad you forced him to remain behind.” There was a pause after that before he added, “I am glad he has you.”

Megatron snorted. His tone was dour and disbelieving, “You. Are glad.”

Optimus sighed at that, vents working. It made the smell of solvent and old energon rise between them. “I am jealous, yes.” He admitted, looking away, knowing that’s what Megatron was thinking. The shift in field told much. 

Megatron all but burst out with a laugh, “Ha!” He stretched then, languid, all but seductive, knowing what it would do to the other mech. Optics like smoldering coals as he teased with his whole frame. When Optimus’ cooling fans kicked in, Megatron smiled, “Go recharge, Optimus.” A dismissal if ever there was one.

Optimus felt disappointment over many aspects of this teasing, but simply nodded and took himself away.

Megatron settled and felt smug. He caressed through the link. ~ You have a wicked bent. ~ It had been Ratchet’s idea to stretch.

~ I do. ~ The medic agreed. Didn’t help that they both felt some betrayal thanks to the prime. ~ It does answer some questions I had though. ~ He admitted.


	15. Chapter 15

After some rest to freshen processors, and aching frames, the work came to an end. Wheeljack fit the last section into place. “Hold onto your hats.” He said, side panels flashing blue, as the piece clicked in and began to move. With that final segment returned the whole room slowly began to take on motion. Almost like being in a gigantic clock, making no sense at all for the whirling of gears and cogs.

As a weary group all climbed out of the maintenance area to the bridges above. Not sure what to expect, they gathered at the edge of the shaft and peered over. At first it seemed as though nothing would occur, but then Sunstreaker pointed, “I see light!” A glimmering formed up deep within the blackness and began to spread.

It was slow a spread. “What is it?” First Aid asked as the group began to get bored of watching, only to gasp. No one was prepared for the wave of energy that swept upwards and over them. Not one of them was prepared for the overcharge that followed. It crashed into their systems like an exquisite wave of purest pleasure and toppled them like so many dominoes. By sheer chance alone no one fell into the Well.

Megatron returned to himself covered in Prime. It was a warm weight that felt right. The engine above him purred. This was not exactly the worst place to be considering how hazy he felt with afterglow. “You could have at least bought me dinner first.” He protested mildly, more Ratchet than anything. Sitting himself up, he had Optimus sprawled across his lap, blushing and looking dazed. But for all it was a view he enjoyed, Megatron snugged Optimus in against himself so he couldn’t escape, and lifted his optics to stare at the globe on the dais. It was no longer a mere sphere. Now it was a proper spark. An intense core of light with energy swirling around it. Little crackles of charge sparked off, colors dancing as they spun. The hum was growing, filling them with the sound.

Ironhide crept to the edge and looked over. “Energon!” He gasped. Below a great pool of the stuff was growing, rising towards them. It gleamed and shimmered against the walls, and when it finally reached the top of the Well it shown brightly to illuminate the ceiling. Etched mechs almost moved with the glimmer from below. Gems set above sparkled with the colors of the stars they represented.

“Wow.” One of the twins said. No one was sure quite who.

 

 

Ratchet’s awareness returned to Renovarus crying. The mechling was pushing at him sobbing, one leg pinned beneath the medic’s pauldron. Renovarus was too small to do more than crawl some and he couldn’t free himself.

Pushing up, sitting, the medic scooped the mechling into his arms and cradled him against his hood. Ratchet soothed even as he checked the little one. No damage. That surge from the Well hit him hard through the link. But now, as he attention went beyond his crying offspring, Ratchet’s optics cycled to their widest.

He was sitting in a field of sparks. Almost sitting on some.

“A bloom?!” He asked himself, staring. In New Kaon, just outside the administration building, the whole circle was covered in sparks. Down side passages the gleams and glimmers told that there were thousands, spreading out.

Across the cavern mechs were staring, picking their way among the colored lights on the ground. There weren’t many mechs here for most had been sent to Iacon to help. 

Prowl was in the doorway to the administration building. His expression was one of wonder. Jazz leaned on a cane as he limped heavily out of the medical clinic on legs bare of panels. While still technically being repaired, he’d been allowed to wander. “Now ain’t this a sight.” He murmured as a smile spread.

Ratchet reached through the link, ~ A bloom!! ~

~ Excuse me? ~ Megatron was a little distracted.

Ratchet smiled, Renovarus in his lap. Almost an echo of how Megatron was holding Optimus. ~ Whatever you did, it created a bloom! Right here in Kaon. ~ With Megatron’s permission he shared the images of what he was seeing.

 

 

Down in the Well, Megatron breathed, “There’s a Bloom.”

Optimus turned to look at him, mostly over a shoulder. “A Bloom? Megatron, what is Ratchet telling you?” He pushed away from the Decepticon and clambered out of the other’s lap.

Megatron climbed to his peds, looking over at the huge spark now lazily turning above the dais. The pain in it had faded. “There is a full Bloom in New Kaon. Literally in the caverns.” He then turned to offer Optimus his hands. The prime accepted the aid and rose.

The others also got to their peds. Soundwave tilted his helm and asked simply, “Home?”

Optimus nodded. “We should. We are finished here, and it will take us many days to even reach the bottom of the crevice.” No one complained as they gathered their packs.

While there were some arachnids to deal with on the way out, the group barely paused as they walked back to the bottom of the crevice. Ravage lead the way. After so long below ground, they all had to stop and simply bask in the weak sun streaming down on them. Sure the tear was deep, but it wasn’t that deep. However, they found the area changing. Very nearly before their optics the edges of the crevice was growing back together.

“We should hurry.” Optimus said for all no one needed to be told.

Megatron motioned to Soundwave. “Go on ahead and...” But there he hesitated because a ship was already lowering down into the expanse. It was one of the Autobot vessels that had followed from Earth.

<< Sorry ah’m late, kiddies. >> Jazz said cheerfully through comms, << There’s a bit of a mess at home. >>

Optimus found himself smiling.

The ship couldn’t land, but it wasn’t long before they climbed up to a ledge and jump across the small space as Jazz held the ship steady. He waited only long enough for everyone to be on board before heading up. Not even waiting for the hatch to close.

Jazz grinned as Ironhide came forward to grip his pauldron. 

“Good seeing you active.” The old warrior claimed.

“Ya know me, ‘Hide. Ain’t no keepin’ this mech down.” Jazz shrugged, modestly. Now if only the grin he wore weren’t full of mischief.

Optimus closed the hatch, but there was almost no point. In moments they were swinging out over the great maw of an opening that lead down to New Kaon. Mechs scurried out of the way, crates of sparks in their hands. Jazz was careful as he checked, but the crews had done their job well and no sparks remained in the landing bay.

“Even here?” Megatron asked, surprised.

Jazz nodded. “Everywhere. Thousands an’ thousands. Biggest bloom we’ve had in a long time. Prowl had us subspace ‘em all ‘cause of space and energon limitations.” Subspace wouldn’t hurt sparks. But it would stop their development into full sized mechs until removed.

Megatron approved and dropped lightly down from the ship the moment it touched down. Without a word he strode off.

Optimus watched him go, a little surprised. Jazz, struggling to rise from the pilot’s chair on his damaged legs, caught the Prime’s arm. Optimus immediately turned to help. “He’s goin’ t’see Ratchet. The last few weeks been hard on ‘em both.”

Optimus hadn’t considered that. “I suppose it has.” He spoke only quietly.

The rest of the team wearily left the ship and more slowly followed the Decepticon. While they more or less went their separate ways, it was in good spirits, and to the arms of friends.

Jazz leaned on his cane, watching the bigger mech. Once the others were gone, “Ya could always ask t’share.” He prompted with a smile, and a nudge.

Optimus blinked down at his friend. “I… No.” He knew he’d have to explain why, and stopped the second nudge as it happened. “They both feel betrayed by me, and I must admit in Ratchet’s case that is partially true.”

“Ya know, Optimus.. we got time. This don’t gotta be all or nothin’.”

The prime wondered if he could earn back their trust. He couldn’t deny that he wanted it.

 

 

Megatron stopped inside the administration building to look at Prowl. The enforcer held Renovarus and both simply looked back. The mechling did at least react to Megatron in a positive manner. When Megatron’s brow furrowed, Prowl merely pointed up. “It can wait. Go.”

Prowl found himself smiling as the Decepticon turned and left with only a nod.

Climbing the stair several at a time, Megatron was opening the door to the habitat moments later. Ratchet was just inside, hand to door controls, a tad too late. The medic began a smile that shifted to relief as their fields touched and molded close. The smile soon reinstated itself. 

“Wash rack.” Ratchet insisted, pointing the way.

Megatron, having been starting an effort to scoop the medic up and kiss him, rocked back on his peds. “What?”

Ratchet simply pushed at Megatron. “Get out of the doorway, and into the wash. You reek.” It took a little effort, since he had to wait for Megatron to decide to move, but the door was soon closed behind them.

“I suppose I do.” Megatron let himself be herded. Their wash rack was large if only because he was. Ratchet’s no nonsense attitude had him growing amused. There was something going on here the medic wasn’t sharing.

What Ratchet had in mind was simply a wash. While Megatron got the solvent working, the medic gathered what he needed. To start it made Megatron uncomfortable, Ratchet’s washing of his person, but it didn’t take him long to relax. Which was the whole point. By the end, kneeling down so Ratchet could reach everything, Megatron found himself on the edge of recharge. The medic’s touch had been gentle as he cleaned every inch of the big mech.

“Will you let me wax you later?” Ratchet asked, feeling an intense sense of calm after it all. There was always a quiet pleasure in helping groom someone you cared bout. He leaned against the broad back and slid his arms around the mech. It’d only been a few weeks, and yet it felt like a life time. Their accepting of the bond, for all it’d been over a year, was still new. Separation ached.

Megatron snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He wasn’t one to pamper himself. This wash was almost more than he could handle at first. He’d had to remind himself repeatedly that Ratchet was doing so because he wanted to, not because he was forced. The pleasure through the link from the medic helped ease such thoughts further.

Ratchet grinned against the back of Megatron’s helm. “What? I can’t want everyone seeing this gorgeous chassis gleaming? I can’t be proud of you? I am, you know.” Sometimes he thought the other needed to hear that. “You didn’t strangle Optimus even once.”

Megatron snorted at him, gripping the red hands on him. “You had to ruin the moment.”

Ratchet laughed and kissed that helm. “Don’t move..” He left a cold spot at Megatron’s back in order to turn off the solvent. Taking up a mesh, he began drying the Decepticon, not wanting the grooming to end. 

Somewhere during the drying Megatron admitted, “It was tempting.” To strangle the Prime.

Ratchet could only nod, “You weren’t the only one wanting to wring his neck.” He shrugged a shoulder. “You two did find a balance at least. Not sure I could have managed that alone. I get too caught up.” Unable to put emotions aside. “You know, I have no problem with you two being friends again, or even more. You don’t actually have to choose between us. I can share.”

The emotions over this were mixed and Ratchet dried as they played out inside Megatron. He calmed them both with using the mesh on panels. The touch was soothing, and the support the medic offered unwavering. “It’s still too raw.” Megatron finally admitted.

Ratchet nodded, “I can understand that. Certainly not going to rush this having you all to myself thing, so take all the time you need.”

Megatron said nothing more on the topic, “I need to recharge.” A grudging admission. He’d wanted to interface, but after this relaxing wash he knew that wasn’t happening.

Admiring the view as Megatron stood, Ratchet simply asked, “Want me here?” He turned the mesh to himself, having gotten quite soaked.

“Yes.”

While Ratchet hadn’t been all that tired, the moment he curled into Megatron’s arms they were both out like a light.

 

Down stairs Optimus wearily sank down to sit on the floor. There were chairs, but he was too tired to consider that. It’d been weeks since he could use a chair, so this was more by habit than design. Prowl watched the other a time before approaching and putting Renovarus in the prime’s lap. The mechling, pacifier in mouth, made an unintelligible sound as he patted the big mech’s windshields. With Mirage in Iacon, and Jazz only now joining them, it had fallen to Prowl to mind the little one. It was never a chore he was comfortable with.

Optimus looked surprised, but then smiled. He was sure he didn’t smell all that pleasant, but Renovarus didn’t seem to mind. Nothing was said as he watched the little one explore his own hood.

Jazz was soon there, limping. They didn’t speak out loud, but it was clear Jazz and Prowl were communicating.

Optimus wearily looked up as Jazz reached down to take the mechling, and Prowl was there to help him stand. “Wash and a berth.” The tactician ordered.

“I.. believe I would like to remain here.” Optimus gave wearily.

Prowl merely tilted his helm. “You are not my commander anymore, Optimus.” There was a firmness there. Which soon softened with a small smile. To so many he could be cold, but not here. “You are my friend. Come. No arguing with me.” His field, normally so quiet and calm, pushed stubbornly at the prime.

Optimus vented and let himself be pulled along. It took a bit, especially with Jazz’s slow pace, but the pair brought him to their own habitat. It wasn’t large, but certainly looked lived in. A strange combination of Jazz’s disorganization and Prowl’s drive for neatness. They met somewhere in the middle. There had been a great many compromises to establish their bond.

He was maneuvered into a wash rack. When Jazz appeared, having put Renovarus down somewhere, the pair, tactician and saboteur, got him clean. A little embarrassing perhaps, but Optimus was too tired to think on it at any length. Nor was it anything like the intimate wash Ratchet gave his partner. Then some energon was put down him, and they all but pushed him into a berth.

The berth was large. And strangely on the floor.

Prowl said as he pushed Optimus to it. “This was easier than constantly falling off.” He didn’t explain that further.

Optimus decided not to ask, simply grateful as he laid down. Jazz sank down to be near, Renovarus close, and Prowl found a thermal blanket to spread over the prime. Optimus was out before he even realized he’d shuttered his optics.

<< Ah knew it’d been hard when I saw Megatron head straight t’Ratchet.. but ah can’t help wonder what happen’ down there. Barely any mechs hurt, but it’s like he’s been runnin’ hard for months. >> Jazz said as he let Renovarus crawl around. The mechling was still unstable about it, but he was moving.

Prowl sat on Optimus’ other side, << It had to be the energy affect Ratchet spoke of. It knocked him flat and he didn’t take the full brunt. >>

<< How long was he out? Ah never heard. >>

<< Mere minutes. >> Prowl settled to sit to his peds, kneeling near the berth. << By what I’m finding in security footage, all the mechs that went down are doing much the same. >> Managing a wash and little more before recharge.

Jazz nodded, his legs aching. The repairs had been slow due to having to fabricate parts. << We’ll wrangle them up and get them into Ratchet’s tender mercies once they’d all recharged. >>

 

 

Soundwave managed to avoid that dubious mercy by stint of being up before anyone else. There was a strange urge inside that needed to be answered. So he flew. The sun had not yet risen, but its glow was spreading regardless. Through the thin haze of pollution, the host mech let the winds guide him. Let that inner need show the way.

He coasted out beyond the crevice and found a clear area between mountains and old Kaon. There he dropped, transforming to land lightly.

As peds touched down light blossomed beneath him. Welled up from the very ground and spread as quickly as only light could. In the wake of such light sparks began to form.

Soundwave felt immense relief as the energy left him. Host or not, he was never truly meant to carry it. While the bloom was small, it was still new life. The mech reveled in it.

Picking his way among the circles of life glimmering in the harsh dirt, Soundwave noticed two that drew him to them. Twins he realized as he leaned down and collected the closely nestled orbs. One in each hand he felt their pain of separation, so rolled them close once more. Cradled together in his hands, the host knew they were meant for him. Their names flowed, their volatile personalities doing nothing to diminish his pleasure. Rumble and Frenzy. He simply tucked them in against his side where they would one day recharge. 

 

 

When Megatron and Ratchet made their appearance many (many) hours later the medic was sporting a glossy coat of wax. He gleamed not unlike a show room model, clearly having been polished head to ped with intricate care. The Decepticon was decidedly not freshly waxed. Ratchet wondered at life sometimes. His being polished hadn’t been the original plan, but Megatron loved turning the tables on him. Things rather got out of hand.

“There you are.” The medic smiled as Prowl offered him Renovarus. The mechling made some upset noises to express his displeasure at not having seen his carrier all night-cycle, and clung. Ratchet chuckled as he soothed. “Thanks, Prowl.”

The Praxian merely nodded, kind of relieved. He so didn’t have the temperament for mechlings, no matter how good Renovarus was. Turning his attention to the Decepticon he said, “Soundwave has sent some images you will want to see.” 

That drew the attention of both mechs and they moved over as Prowl pulled up a holo display. A barren landscape covered in sparks.

“Another bloom?” Megatron asked.

Prowl nodded. “Soundwave went out for a flight early in the light-cycle. Once he landed the bloom spread from him. It isn’t large, like here in New Kaon, but a bloom just the same. Considering you created a bloom through Ratchet, and now Soundwave has done so, we must consider that the others of your team will do the same. You are all reacting in a similar manner.”

Megatron frowned at the news, thinking. “The sparks?”

“Already being collected. We are running out of storage however.”

Ratchet rubbed Renovarus’ back after linking the two together with the energon tie. Sure the mechling could eat his own energon now, but this calmed him more easily. Showed that Ratchet wasn’t going anywhere soon. “What about the others? Are they going to be able to hold off creating their own blooms? And why aren’t they creating anything here in Kaon?”

Prowl motioned a hand to say he didn’t know. “Not enough data. Most are still in recharge. I must assume not here due to there already having been a large bloom.”

“You don’t think they can hold off, do you?”

Prowl shook his helm to show no.

Megatron rumbled through his engine. “Empty everything you can from deep storage. Better we lose materials than mechs. Pull back who you can from Iacon. It’s been weeks. The odds of survivors left to be found will be low now. Time to focus on the living.” While there would still be mechs in the wreckage, the crevice where Iacon used to be was also closing. Those mechs still trapped had already gone into stasis for lack of energon, and could be dug out later.

Prowl nodded and turned back to his station.

“Well now, ain’t ya lookin’ stylish?” Jazz teased Ratchet as he limped his way inside. “Been a while since ah seen ya waxed.”

Megatron looked down right smug as he stood over Prowl, watching the screens, but Ratchet could only roll his optics. “Let’s go get you a little more patched up.” He’d been making parts for Jazz non stop for some weeks now.

Carrying Renovarus, Ratchet lead the way to the clinic next door. A new building was suppose to be built for a proper hospital, but things kept getting in the way. 

During the reconstruction of a limb, Ratchet sat with Renovarus in his lap, and a tool in each hand. Jazz was humming to himself during the process. But Ratchet felt something and looked down to find Ravage at his elbow. “You okay?” He asked the cybercat, feeling the unease emanating from her.

Ears worked and she touched his elbow again with her nose.

Ratchet glanced at Jazz, and put his tools away. “I’ll be right back, Jazz.” Renovarus in arm he rose to his peds.

“Ah mech.. now?” Jazz hated medical bays.

“She wouldn’t be here if it weren’t important.” Ratchet assured. With a nod to the feline, he followed. They didn’t go far. Up to the apartments above clinic and administration, to Soundwave’s habitat.

Ratchet asked nothing even as he found the dark mech stretched out on a berth. Soundwave was still, his em field a bare whisper. Putting a hand to the mech’s hood, Ratchet listened there with sensors and field. Weariness. Yet also a soft pleasure. “I don’t think he’s hurt.” The medic assured Ravage. “Can you help me jack in? I’m pretty sure he won’t be able to consciously let me in.”

Ravage nodded and leapt to the berth, moving around Soundwave to his head. There she rubbed against him gently. Ratchet took that as his chance to jack in. He didn’t do much. Sent forth medical codes to ease his passage, and did some diagnostics.

“He’s almost in stasis, but I’m not seeing anything wrong.” Still, Ratchet frowned. He’d gotten pretty good at working one handed, and worked open a one of Soundwave’s upper torso ports. “I’m going to give him some energon, but I think all he requires is rest.” Finding a cube at the dispenser, the medic topped off the Decepticon’s tank.

Ravage merely nodded, and settled in to wait. Ratchet dispersed the empty cube and leaned over the black mech. There were two sparks tucked into plating. He didn’t touch them directly, but did the plating near. When he found the bond he shook his head and left them all to rest.

Jazz was relieved, even if he didn’t show it. “That was fast.”

“Soundwave’s near stasis. He’s okay, but it does have me worried.” Settling back to his chair, he returned to what he had been doing.

“Ya think the others are gonna do that too?”

Ratchet nodded, “You heard Prowl. Stands to reason.”

~ You need to get everyone who went with you to the Well out somewhere they can spread a bloom. ~ Ratchet reached out across the link. He knew he had Megatron’s attention, for all the other said nothing to interrupt him. ~ Soundwave is nearly in stasis. I’ve concerns that waiting will create serious medical issues. ~

Megatron considered a time before asking, ~ Why weren’t we affected? ~

Ratchet shared a mental shrug. ~ Probably because you didn’t have to wait. You dispensed the charge from the Well directly. Even if it was through me. Everyone else has been waiting days. Why you didn’t bloom below I simply don’t know. ~

It gave them both much to think about.

In the end it wasn’t all that difficult to do. One by one, in different areas, the team was dropped down to create a bloom. The mechs were always exhausted after, nearly dropping into stasis directly, and the blooms.. Ratchet had no idea how they were going to deal with the influx of mechs. They didn’t have enough storage for the sparks, especially not after Optimus’ bloom proved far larger than any of the others. It took nearly all of New Kaon a week to gather them all.

With Optimus and the others recharging it off, Megatron had filled a cavern with sparks to let them forge. A forged spark would create it’s own protoform if given time. You simply had to wait it out.

“This many?” Ratchet asked, concerned.

Megatron nodded. “Iacon is gone.” The idea hurt even him. Part of why he’d been working so hard was for Iacon’s benefit. “We now have a great deal more energon.” The panels hadn’t taken a lot of damage in the quake and thus were still producing at near full strength.

Ratchet frowned, “Do we have enough to mentor them all?”

“Yes.” The Decepticon assured, “Prowl gave me the totals.” Megatron placed a warm hand against his back and together they stood staring at the glimmering spheres spread over the floor. It almost hurt to see them treated this crudely, but they had no means to give them more.


	16. Chapter 16

It took two days for the mechs to recover from the blooms. They were monitored, and given energon, but needed little else. Ratchet gave Soundwave a good looking over since that one woke first, and found nothing wrong.

After that there was little to do but wait for the rest to wake too. Ratchet settled Renovarus into the arms of the carrying mech he had been speaking to when Optimus showed up some weeks ago. It felt like an eternity had passed since.

They were in the circle, what amounted to a park more than anything else, the carry heavy mech seated on a bench. He was still scared of his carry, narrowly having avoided the collapsed ceiling of Uyara Branch, but holding the mechling was a nice distraction. He’d have his own soon to look after.

Ratchet’s thoughts were idly on that birthing as he looked out to the landing cavern. New Kaon wasn’t underground for defense. Some heavy charges would have blown it the ceiling down anyway, but the cavern kept the acid rain off them all, and their homes. He could see the haze of it off in the dark distance as rain poured down the access passage from the surface. Megatron was off somewhere, mildly irritated by something. The medic hadn’t been pressing, but it did keep drawing his thoughts to the bigger mech.

“Well, what do we have here?” The voice grated against Ratchet’s audios and his spark sank. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it, mechling?”

Starscream, still steaming lightly from the wet of that acid rain, was looking unlike himself. Scruffy, paint faded, and dents everywhere. He was holding Renovarus in both hands, from where he’d plucked the little one from the neutral, looking over the mechling in a critical manner.

Ratchet couldn’t keep his dread out of the bond as he turned and held out both hands. “Starscream, given him to me.” The seeker was a surprise. Ratchet could only assume he was here for the energon since New Kaon was one of the only supplies of it on Cybertron. Last he knew Starscream had been in Iacon.

Renovarus looked at the mech who held him a time, but then with a hitch of vents he began to cry. Ratchet could feel Megatron reacting, and badly.

It drew attention from all over the circle. The mechling normally didn’t cry, and certainly not that loud. The good thing about that was it distracted Starscream too.

Ratchet lunched forward towards the seeker, who lifted the mechling high over head and out of the medic’s reach. That wasn’t what he was going for however. He simply laid his hands on Starscream and forced their fields to blend.

Starscream tried to step back, but it was too late. The shrieking mechling was held high over head. “Unhand me, you cretin! I’m already filthy as it…” Anything more he might have said faded away into a ragged moan. The seeker’s arms lowered as his optics dimmed.

Ratchet fed overcharge into Starscream. The memory of the most intense orgasm he’d ever experienced. It was a trick he’d not used in a very long time. Mostly due to a denied bond’s ability to diminish pleasure. Megatron had sure chased that lack away, leaving the medic now to flood Starscream’s systems with multiple experiences. Tidalwave after tidalwave of pleasure caused the mech to see stars, and to experience an intense white out of all systems as Starscream’s own body responded in full.

Then Ratchet simply plucked the crying Renovarus from slack hands as the seeker collapsed to the ground. Starscream lay there, twitching, intimate panels open in a wanton manner. Lubricant leaked freely.

A smirk pulled in over his lips as Ratchet soothed his offspring and left Starscream there on the ground. Of all the mechs to die in Iacon, why couldn’t the seeker have been one of them?

Optimus was striding over as he approached the administration building. The neutral mech was still sitting on the bench and staring. Optimus asked, almost in a whisper, “What did you do, Ratchet?”

The medic looked up at the prime, a wicked glint in his sky blue optics “Oh, I just gave him a warm welcome back.”

 

 

Optimus pulled himself up through the hatch feeling like he was assaulted by old memories. The ladder was far less safe than it had been, but he remembered the climb well. The hatch at the top could no longer close, having been forced open after many long years sealed. He assumed Megatron had forced it.

He carefully maneuvered his pauldrons through. He was bigger than he used to be. “I.. can not believe this is still here.” Said to Megatron as he crawled up and to his peds. The ceiling was low, and he mindful of that. The shelter was tiny, smaller than he remembered, but still showed a view of Kaon. Such as was left of it at any rate.

Megatron grunted at him from where the Decepticon sat, watching the acid rain.

Once this had been a place to escape to, so very long ago. A nearly unknown location Megatron had discovered as a youngling. They’d interfaced here more than once. Optimus certainly didn’t try for that now as he sank down near the other. “What drove you here?”

Megatron said nothing on that. As much as he tried, he had arrived too late to help to Ratchet, having been in the far passages. There was a strange feeling of guilt and pride over the fact Ratchet hadn’t needed his help at all. Did everyone underestimate medics? “I have a question for you.” Megatron asked back.

Used to the avoidances even after all this time, Optimus let it go and asked, “Yes?”

There was another length of silence as Megatron gathered his thoughts. “After Ratchet saved my spark, in the arena, did you go after him?”

Optimus had to stop and think on that one. “Eventually.” That wasn’t one of his finer moments, but he had checked and found Ratchet had been taken to Iacon, the spires, so he knew the medic was safe. This was only after Megatron had proven to live through the encounter. “Why?”

“Something he said.” Megatron admitted, tossing a rock out at the rain. “He’s reluctant to speak of it, but you know they slave coded him for that? For saving me.”

No, Optimus hadn’t known. It left him sick to spark and silent for a time. “..I did not.” He’d tried to reach for Ratchet back then, only to be pushed away. Back then Orion had thought poorly of his friend, thinking him selfish, wallowing. Optimus now looked out at the rain and felt pain. Just how many things did that pushing away protect Orion from? And why ask this now?

Megatron wasn’t done however. “He said he’d share me with you.” Another rock joined the first. His engine was working, grumbling.

Optimus opened, then closed his mouth, and found himself chuffing a laugh. “Interesting.”

“But it’s not me that you’re interested in.” Megatron said as he looked back. “Does he know you’re in love with him?” There at least wasn’t any jealousy. The Decepticon knew there was no reason for it.

The prime had to look away, to the rain. “No.” He murmured. “He.. never seemed interested. In anyone. Not even Ironhide, and they ..shared pleasure in one another. When Ironhide could draw him out at any rate.” His optics drop to his hands, which were cupped between his legs. He rubbed at some rust he’d picked up on the ladder. The red flakes drifted off. “I know why now.”

Megatron nodded, “The bond.”

“Are..” Optimus asked tentatively, “You angry about that?”

The Decepticon warlord shifted, turning from the rain to put his back to the shelter wall. He could better face Optimus that way. “Which? The bond?” A smirk played over lips, but when Optimus nodded, he continued, “No.” As strange as that may be. “I should be. It was forced on me after all, but no.” Looking away from the prime he admitted, “He has suffered far more for it than I. In fact it’s saved my life repeatedly.”

“What is it like? The bond..”

Megatron frowned, uneasy. “I’m not explaining that.” His engine growled to further that. Plating even flared just a little.

Optimus asked, puzzled, “Why?”

“It’s decidedly personal.”

Optimus found himself smiling. “I shall simply ask Ratchet then.” Because he knew the medic would at least try.

Megatron gave him an angry look. Plating flared fully wide in an aggressive manner. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Of course I would. Ratchet has been my friend for a very long time.”

There was a snort, his field filled with ire. “Some friend you were.” Megatron grumped at him. This time he threw a rock at Optimus. It had little force and merely bounced off.

Optimus vented and didn’t reply immediately. Certainly didn’t react for the tossed stone. “Megatron.” He said quietly, reprovingly, “You will not distract me.”

Megatron pulled up a knee and draped an arm over it. “I will. In time.” He was still agitated, but there was humor lurking as well.

Optimus leaned forward and touched the Decepticon’s dark fingers from below. Where his dark hand hung down. A caress from an old friend. “Tell me?”

Megatron jerked for it, and pulled from that touch, not wanting it. More for it wasn’t on his terms than anything else. Optimus didn’t oblige however, and laid that hand on his knee.

Red optics rolled nearly to the back of his skull. He angrily flexed that hand. “If you don’t keep your hands to yourself, I’m strangling you.” He growled low for it too, baring denta.

Optimus found himself smiling fondly, but did remove his hand. Lifting his own knees, he wrapped his arms around them in a relaxed manner. Hands clasped, but knees not touching. There he waited. That was always the best way with Megatron. Together they listened and watched the rain.

Megatron made him wait a good while too, but the prime’s patience always paid off in the end when it came to the Decepticon. “It’s..” He almost said ‘good’, but knew he’d be prodded until he did something violent, so considered his words. Megatron wasn’t really angry at Prime, but old habits died hard. He enjoyed so needling Optimus. “Fulfilling.” He admitted finally. “He’s never invasive, but always there should I have need. I never expected the bond would let me feel whole.” Whole, loved, trusted, and desired. That went unsaid however.

Slowly Optimus said, “Now that I am jealous of.”

Megatron could only snort. “He won’t admit it, but he feels betrayed by you.” Petty perhaps, but now they both could be uncomfortable. Ratchet touched him through the link and he sent assurances.

Optimus was indeed troubled by that, but only thinned his lips and showed little more. “Why?” He could guess. There were several options.

“You left.” Megatron told the other simply. “I imagine they all feel that way to some degree. Without you there the council isolated all your command team and then banished them. It left Ratchet to carry, alone.”

Now Optimus knew he was very much at fault in the first aspect of that, but the second? “And you, the sire, had no responsibility in that?” Not like Megatron was there either.

Megatron nodded, accepting that responsibility. The failing. “I did search.” There was a shrug. “By the time I discovered the banishment, he was gone. He hid himself well. Took me four years to track him down even with the bond.” Sounded frustrated for that, and he rubbed at his brow. “Literally, I arrive as he’s in labor.”

Optimus was quite curious about that. “What happened?”

There was a shrug of massive pauldrons. “I watched. He had everything already taken care of.” Megatron motioned a hand to express agitation. “Made a medical berth that cut the mechling out, and closed him back up again.”

“How did you two meet?” Optimus asked suddenly, derailing the Decepticon’s thoughts. That might be an easier topic. He didn’t want Megatron entirely unsettled.

“Seriously?” How did Optimus manage to do this to him? Megatron almost longed for the days of pointless violence. Now that he could deal with. His engine grumbled unease as he tried to settle himself.

Optimus nodded, “Yes. Megatron, you are both important to me.”

Megatron’s face twisted into an expression of disgust, but he soon vented. He wasn’t about to admit to the prime that Ratchet kept poking through the link because he was troubled by the topics. “We met at a bar.”

The prime hesitated and frowned, “I am having trouble picturing you at a bar.”

“None the less true.”

Optimus waited again.

“You are annoying.” Megatron groused, tone low. It made Optimus smile. “Fine. Impactor took me. The place was filled with spirelings. It was disgusting. Yet Impactor was insistent I learn how to deal with them so that I could get extra energon and credits. He told me I had to dance, once, before I could leave.”

The prime looked surprised at that. Not because of the situation, for he knew about the exploitation of miners, but that Impactor could get Megatron to do such a thing. “You must have been very young.”

Megatron looked dour. “I was a youngling. Early half of my first century. I shouldn’t have been there.” Of that he was sure.

Optimus agreed, but nothing could change that now.

The Decepticon motioned a hand, “So, I had to dance.” Wry though he sounded. “I was looking through the crowd, at my wits end in the noise, and spotted the plainest mech I’d ever seen. A medic.”

Optimus smiled all over again. Megatron didn’t need him prompting now.

“We danced.” Megatron looked out over the rain. “He knew everything I needed before I did. Yet never took advantage. Made me feel his equal.” Another rock was tossed out into the wet. “I’d never known that before. Frankly, he terrified me. And made me long for more. I should have gone back, but I never did.”

The two didn’t speak for a time, both watching the rain. Optimus didn’t want to press, even though he was curious. This was a difficult topic for the warlord. The prime did wonder if he had any non difficult topics, and decided he didn’t. Which brought him to ask, “Starscream?”

Megatron’s plating flared, but he only shrugged. No matter what had happened with Optimus, he honestly felt Starscream no threat. “That idiot wants something. I have no doubt he came because there was no where else to go. That’s how Starscream operates.”

“You are not worried he will hurt Renovarus?”

“No. Starscream knows better. The Vosnians have some of the most powerful carrier coding.. one would think Starscream would have known not to scare a mechling right there in front of his carrier.” Megatron could only roll his optics. He did believe Starscream also knew that to truly hurt Renovarus was to die by his hands. Painfully.

“I can only assume Starscream will not make that mistake again.”

Megatron snorted, “He has somehow lived this long.” The seeker wasn’t stupid.

“You will have to talk to him.” Optimus did wonder if that’s why Megatron was here, hiding. Not that the other would admit to that.

The Decepticon made a sound of complete and utter disgust. The year and something without Starscream around had been blissful. “Why did you leave?” Shifting topics yet again. He would rather not talking of the seeker, and Megatron was tired of answering.

Something the Autobots had also asked, “I doubt you will accept the answer.” Optimus gave slowly. No one really had. 

“Par for the course, Optimus.” Megatron sounded disgruntled.

Optimus didn’t keep him waiting. That was only fair. “I left for two reasons. The original cause was that as Prime I feel I should remain distant from politics. I am ill suited for peace time.”

Megatron gave him the dirtiest look, but merely motioned a hand to keep the prime talking.

While he felt guilt for that, as he may have been able to prevent aspects of the past, Optimus didn’t linger on it. “The second came later. I traveled randomly for a time only to stumble over hints of something the matrix responded to. A warning. A possible danger.” He put a hand over his hood, where the matrix rested. “When I could find nothing more than the hints, and no idea of what this danger was, I returned.”

That certainly had the Decepticon’s attention. He watched the prime through narrowed optics. “One more trouble for the pile.” Was noted wryly. Megatron pinched the bridge of his nasal ridge. “And nothing more of this danger?”

Optimus had been looking out at the acid rain, but instead of answer he frowned and pointed. “There are lights.” Old Kaon had nothing there anymore. It was a ruin empty of even the most desperate of scavengers. Yet as they watched something in the distance first glimmered, and then spread.

Regardless of the acid rain, Megatron gained his peds and ducked out of the shelter to get a better look. Optimus followed.

To their shock illumination spread across the entire horizon, following the tracks and seams of Cyberton itself – glowing from within. They felt the shift in the entire globe as their home world began to thrum with strength.

It had been weeks since they had repaired the Well, and finally Cybertron was taking its first breath in untold ages.

 

End of Part One.


End file.
